


The First Five Times

by ClaraxBarton



Category: Gundam Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2017-05-21
Packaged: 2018-07-13 01:18:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 25,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7132253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ClaraxBarton/pseuds/ClaraxBarton
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After five months in a 'friends with benefits' relationship with Duo, Trowa is asked to pretend to be his boyfriend for Duo's ex's wedding.</p><p>A birthday present for Crafty Companion.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A/N: For Crafty Companion, who requested a few text posts using 3x2. I decided to combine all of them into one fic, which you maybe intended anyway? ( (text): me.you.a bottle of vodka. My place. now,(text) pants optional,(text) wanna be my plus one for my ex's wedding? And pretend to be in love with me?).

Also- wishing you the happiest of Birthdays!

A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to Ro. 

  
  


Warnings: angst, language, sexy times

 

Pairings: 3x2/2x3, 1x5, past 2x5

 

_ The First Five Times _

Chapter One

 

Private parties were, in my experience, either really easy, really good money - or they were complete and absolute hell. And I could always tell, as soon as the door was opened, just how it was going to go.

Tonight, as I uneasily adjusted my police officer’s uniform, I asked myself, not for the first time, why the hell people found this so erotic. 

If a cop ever showed up on  _ my _ front doorstep and started to very thoroughly pat  _ me _ down, I would be closing my eyes and praying I wasn’t about to be thrown in jail again.  _ Not _ wondering if it was going to turn into a strip-tease.

Of course, the people who hired me for these kinds of things didn’t usually have to worry about the possibility of a cop entering their home, finding their stash of drugs and/ _ or _ arresting them for prostitution.

I sighed, took off the parade cap and ran my hands through my gel-slicked hair one more time before settling the cap back on and ringing the doorbell.

The house was nice. Small, a Craftsman bungalow that looked like it had been recently and expertly renovated, and the yard looked equally well cared for. I could see a fence around the backyard, and I had to tamp down on my jealousy. It must be nice. To be this ordinary, to have to worry about mowing a lawn.

I was here for a bachelor party, and, remembering the  _ last _ bachelor party I had been hired for, I wasn’t really looking forward to it.

The last party had been interesting, to say the least. The costume request had been a school girl, and I had had to doublecheck - had had to make sure the client understood that I was  _ male, _ and had gotten a cool chuckle in response. To make matters even  _ more _ … interesting, the bachelor party had been attended by only two people - both of the grooms-to-be, and they had wanted the full range of services I offered, and after three hours, I had left with a ridiculously hefty tip and an incredibly sore ass from being bent over and spanked, fucked, and spanked more. 

I didn’t think  _ this _ party would be along those same lines - I didn’t think  _ any _ party would.

The door opened, and a tall, attractive Asian woman smiled up at me.

“Damn. You’re even better looking than your profile photo,” she whistled.

This, I had to assume, was Meilin. She had been the one to set this up for her cousin, her male ‘stick so far up his ass I’m amazed his fiance found the room to put his dick up there’ cousin, who was getting married in a week.

She didn’t seem to need a response from me - and in truth, I wasn’t entirely sure what response I could give that wouldn’t sound incredibly arrogant - so I merely arched an eyebrow. She smirked and turned her head away slightly, towards the interior of the house.

“Oh my God! Someone called the cops! Wufei! What did you  _ do _ ?”

I rolled my eyes at the horrible acting, but from the half-empty drink in her hand and the slight glaze to her eyes, I was sure the party had been in full swing for some time - everyone was probably already drunk enough for her to have sounded believable.

I walked past her, thumbs hooked through my belt, and surveyed the living room.

It was a small group - Meilin, three more Asian women who looked older and each wore wedding rings, a blond haired white man, and a handsome Asian man who had to be Wufei. 

He looked up at me, and while everyone else went wide-eyed, his narrowed.

“Do you have a search warrant?” he demanded, standing up, setting down his drink, and crossing his arms in a pose that I was sure he thought would intimidate me.

I shot Meilin a look.

“Wufei, I don’t think your courtroom finesse is going to get you out of this,” she giggled.

Perfect.

She had hired me to impersonate a cop to strip for a  _ lawyer _ .

I walked closer to him, but he held out a hand to stop me.

“No. Don’t take another step. Until I see a search warrant and your badge number, you aren’t moving.”

I sighed. It was going to be one of  _ those _ nights.

“Sir,” I kept my voice low, “there’s been a complaint.”

His eyes narrowed even  _ further, _ and a scowl twisted his lips.

“What  _ kind _ of complaint?” he demanded, glaring at Meilin as if this was her fault. 

And, of course, it was.

I pulled out my handcuffs, and the rest of the party gasped.

“There have been a number of reports,  _ complaints _ ,” I repeated, “that you are entirely too sexy. And I need to do something about that.”

By this point, everyone else had caught on. Except, of course, for Wufei. He was still glaring at me, but the tension around his mouth had gone slack with confusion.

The line had been horribly corny - it had taken me four tries to be able to say it with a straight face, when I first began doing these things - so I wasn’t at all surprised that he was confused.

“We can do this the easy way,” I told him, twirling the handcuffs around one finger menacingly, “or the hard way.” I ran my other hand down my body, over my torso and to my groin, and squeezed.

The rest of the party gasped or giggled, but I was entirely focused on Wufei.

Finally, he got it. 

He looked past me to Meilin.

“I’m going to murder you and tell my mother  _ you _ were the one who wrecked Uncle Benny’s Camero when we were fifteen,” he threatened.

“Hands up,” I instructed, ignoring the byplay and stepping closer.

He sighed, glared at me again, but, instead of telling me to get out or threatening to sue, he docilely held his hands out and let me cuff them.

“Turn around. I think I need to search you. Thoroughly,” I added, to the appreciation and whistles of the other guests.

Wufei rolled his eyes, but gamely turned and braced his hands on the mantle.

“What’s your name?” the blond haired man called out, his voice more than a little slurred. “Officer…?”

I rolled my own eyes, glad no one could see them behind my tinted sunglasses, and started to run my hands over Wufei’s body, starting at his shoulders.

“Officer Barton.” I kept meaning to come up with something clever - Cathy, the stripper who had gotten me into this line of work in the first place, kept telling me I needed to - but I just wasn’t too interested in devoting my time to coming up with sexual puns.

Wufei, under my hands, was surprisingly pliant, his firm body leaning into my touch and his muscles flexing under me as I ran my hands over his arms, down his back.

I paused, dramatically, just above his ass.

“Don’t forget to search his pockets!” Meilin called out helpfully. “Officer Barton,” she added, with a giggle that turned into a snort.

I slid my hands into Wufei’s back pockets, squeezing his ass, and the guests cat-called loudly, but Wufei just softly snorted.

I moved my hands over his hips, around to his front, and investigated  _ those _ pockets as well.

“Do you have a concealed weapons permit?” I asked, and the guests howled while Wufei managed a weak, amused cough.

I completed the search by stroking down his thighs and legs - his body was trim and toned, and I couldn’t help but think, stick up his ass or not, whoever Wufei was about to marry was a lucky guy indeed.

I turned Wufei around and noticed that he was smirking, just slightly. 

Maybe this wasn’t going to be so awful after all.

“Want me to read you your rights?”

He rolled his eyes but his lips twitched, and he allowed me to nudge him onto the nearest chair.

“You have the right,” I began, removing my hat and placing it on his head to the applause from his friends, “to sit back,” I ran my hands down his chest, pushing him fully back onto the chair, “and enjoy the show.” 

It was the cue, and, thankfully, Meilin wasn’t drunk enough to miss it. 

Music started to play, far too loud, and the bass line thrummed through the air and my body, competing with my heartbeat’s natural pace.

I moved my hands back to my own body, running them over my chest and down to my thighs.

Meilin adjusted the music so that it was less deafening, and I started the strip show in earnest.

I left my glasses on, for the time being, and started with my shirt, easing one button out at a time, swaying and moving my entire body with the music, giving Wufei and the rest of his guests equal amounts of attention. I had learned that, as much as these things were geared towards rewarding - or punishing - one person, I usually got tipped a  _ lot _ more if everyone felt involved.

So, when I finally pulled off the shirt, I tossed it towards the couch, and one of the married women caught it triumphantly. I wondered if I was going to be able to get it back.

I reached down for Wufei’s still-cuffed hands, lifting them and placing his palms on my tanned, oiled skin. 

There were gasps and giggles from the others, and even Wufei seemed to have relaxed enough now to chuckle.

I guided his hands across my pecs, down to my well-defined abs, and pretended that he had squeezed them. I gasped and arched into him.

He lifted an eyebrow when I moved his hands lower, to my belt.

“Not so fast,” I chided him, and pushed his hands away, as if he had been the one to go there.

The others laughed, and then  _ oohed _ as I pulled off my belt in one smooth motion and then draped it around Wufei’s neck.

I popped the top button of my fly, and then turned around, so that my ass was in Wufei’s face and I was facing everyone else.

I gave him a lap dance, slow and tantalizing, rubbing my ass and thighs against his body in time to the music, until I felt him start to grow erect. I stopped, then, because this wasn’t  _ that _ kind of party - Meilin had been very specific about that: make sure her cousin had a good time, finally got out of his shell, but don’t humiliate him  _ too _ badly.

I took a step away from him, straightening up, and then, in a move I had had to practice dozens of times before I got it right, ripped off my pants.

More claps and catcalls greeted the sight of my red thong, and I dropped the pants to the floor before turning back to give Wufei the front view, and everyone else a chance to appreciate my ass.

Wufei’s cheeks were a little flushed, and I knew I was walking that line towards humiliating him  _ too  _ badly, and needed to be careful. 

Still, they had paid for my services - and I intended to give everyone their money’s worth.

So I sat down on Wufei’s lap, straddling him, and took off my sunglasses and put them on his eyes.

“You might need these,” I told him, leaning close and standing, slowly, letting my face, chest and abs brush against the side of his face as I stood, until he was eye-level with my groin.

I hooked my thumbs in the waistband of the thong and it felt like everyone else was holding their breath, wondering if I was really going to do it.

Not everyone liked the  _ full _ show, as we called it - full nudity made a lot of people deeply uncomfortable. But, to my surprise after her other stipulations, Meilin had insisted upon it.

I ripped the thong off and dropped it onto Wufei’s lap.

Wufei’s cheeks were almost as red as the garment, and I had to smirk. It was impossible to see what he was looking at, behind the glasses I had given him, and it was  _ one _ small kindness in a show like this. 

I took my hat back from his head, smoothing my hair before putting it on.

“Now,” I said, “if I hear about any more trouble from you,” I reached out and nudged his chin with my curved index finger, until his face was tilted up to mine, “I’ll have to take you  _ in, _ and I know some of the guys are dying to give you a  _ hard _ time.” I emphasized the words, less for his benefit and more for his drunken friends, who cheered and clapped wildly.

Wufei was still blushing, though, so I smirked and stepped back.

I tipped my hat at the others.

“I hope you all have a fine evening. Don’t hesitate to call me again if I need to come back.”

I picked up my clothes, starting with the belt around Wufei’s neck, then the trousers on the floor, and then walked over to the couch where one of the women was still clutching my shirt.

“Ma’am, I’m going to need that back so I don’t have to arrest myself for indecent exposure.”

She giggled, but I heard someone - probably Wufei - snort derisively at the line.

She gave it back, and I rewarded her with a smile that had her sighing and leaning towards me as I stood up and moved away.

Reaching into the shirt pocket, I pulled out the key to the handcuffs and held it up, waiting for Wufei to look at me.

“Should I release him?” I asked the others.

There was a loud chorus of  _ no, _ and I smirked and tossed the key to Meilin. Even behind the glasses, I could feel Wufei’s glare.

I walked out of the room, knowing all of their eyes were on my bare ass, and continued until I was out of their sight before I stopped to dress again.

Meilin came out to join me.

“Oh my god, that was even better than I thought it would be! Any chance you do birthday parties?”

“I do all occassions,” I assured her as I accepted the roll of twenties she handed to me. I counted it - I had been shorted too many times in the past - and paused when I finished. She had given me an fifty, which was either an outrageous tip or a mistake.

I met her eyes and she smirked.

“You earned it, Officer Barton. I don’t think I’ve seen Wufei that relaxed since his ex got him drunk when we went to Burning Man.”

I had a hard time imagining Wufei attending Burning Man, and I had to chuckle.

“My pleasure,” I assured her, and pocketed the money.

“And mine!”

I nodded a farewell to her and then walked out of the house.

I had parked down the block, knowing it was better to enhance the surprise of my arrival than announce it with headlights and an engine turning over, and walked back to my car sedately.

Easy money, Cathy had told me, years ago, when I had hesitated about getting into stripping. Easy money - and you only have to do what you’re comfortable with. Of course, I was comfortable with a  _ lot _ . And after my first week working for Hollywood Strippers, the ridiculous amount of money I had earned had soothed any of my fears. Or at least, allowed me to bury them under the ability to finally - for the first time in years - pay my rent on time, and be able to buy enough groceries to eat and  _ not _ walk around half-hungry.

My car, though, was a reminder of my past - a Nissan Pathfinder with nearly 300,000 miles on it. I had traveled across the country a few times in it, and it had been the one reliable thing in my life for the past ten years.

I got in and checked my phone for any missed messages, and had to grin when I saw Duo’s name.

I had met Duo Maxwell eight months ago, in less than ideal circumstances. It had been late, and I had run out to a corner gas station to grab a six-pack of beer, while Duo, who had just gotten off of his shift as a nurse at the county hospital, had stopped to get a slushie. I had been too busy checking out his ass as we stood in line to even notice when three guys in ski masks came into the gas station, waving guns, shouting for us to get to the ground. 

I had dropped, instantly, all-too familiar with how quickly this could turn to shit, but Duo, with his smart mouth and complete disregard for personal risk, had been slower, had loudly muttered something about assholes with little pricks, and earned himself a kick to the gut and a trip to the ER when one of the guys shot him in the side.

I’d been on the floor beside him, watching him slowly bleed out in front of my eyes, for five minutes before the guys had taken everything and left. It had been another ten minutes before the cops arrived. Another five before the ambulance.

I hadn’t known what the fuck I was doing, but I’d stripped off my shirt and shoved it against the wound, had had to be practically hauled away when the EMTs had finally arrived, had insisted on going to the hospital with him and waiting for him to get out of surgery. Waiting for him to wake up.

And when he had, blinking his eyes open in confusion when he saw me, a complete stranger, in his hospital room, I had told him what a fucking moron he was and he had just grinned at me, still high on pain meds.

“You’re the cute guy with terrible taste in beer,” he had slurred before falling back asleep.

It wasn’t the most normal way to begin a friendship - but, aside from never really being able to forget about the sight of Duo’s pale face and the sound of his ragged, wet breathing, I didn’t regret meeting him. 

We hung out at least once a week - sometimes more, but our work schedules were different enough that it was tough to manage. From the start - me admiring his ass and him calling me cute - there had been blatant sexual tension between us. It had taken three months, though, before Duo finally kissed me and told me he wanted to fuck me. And even now, five months later, we weren’t  _ dating _ . The week before we met, Duo had said, he had broken up with his boyfriend of two years, and he didn’t want to jump into anything serious. I had bad luck with relationships - had never had one last more than six months - and I wasn’t about to risk screwing up whatever it was I had with Duo by trying to make it fit some conventional romantic model. So, if all he wanted was hanging out once a week - going out to a movie or a bar or, once, bowling, and then going back to his apartment or mine and fucking until we fell asleep together - I wasn’t going to complain or force the issue.

Friends with  _ very good _ benefits was enough for me.

I relaxed in the Pathfinder, taking off my hat and carelessly tossing it towards the trunk, and looked at the unread messages on my phone from Duo.

**Me. You. A bottle of vodka. My place. Now.**

**Pants optional.**

I smirked at that second message, sent immediately after the first, and looked at the time. Half an hour ago, probably when I had been feeling Wufei up against his mantle.

**Was working. Still want me?**

I sent the message and, almost immediately, a bubble with an ellipse appeared on my screen.

**When do I not want you? Also. My bottle of vodka is almost empty. So bring your own.**

I winced at that. Duo wasn’t usually a heavy drinker - something, or someone, from his past made him incredibly leery about being drunk.

**Rough night?**

There had been times, in the past, when Duo had told me he needed to forget all the people he hadn’t been able to save, when he had  _ begged _ me to make him forget.

**Wanna be my plus one for my ex’s wedding? And pretend to be in love with me?**

Well. That wasn’t the explanation I had been expecting.

**Need to change. Be at your place in half an hour** .

 

-o-

 


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: For Crafty Companion, who requested a few text posts using 3x2. I decided to combine all of them into one fic, which you maybe intended anyway? ( (text): me.you.a bottle of vodka. My place. now,(text) pants optional,(text) wanna be my plus one for my ex's wedding? And pretend to be in love with me?).

Also- wishing you the happiest of Birthdays!

A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to Ro. 

  
  


Warnings: angst, language, sexy times

Pairings: 3x2/2x3, 1x5, past 2x5

 

_ The First Five Times _

Chapter Two

 

I would have preferred to shower - I was still covered in body oil - but instead, I changed into jeans, a t-shirt - and  _ underwear _ \- and dumped my cop uniform into a laundry basket before getting back in my car.

I didn’t bother to get more vodka - I didn’t need it, and from the sound of things, neither did Duo.

When I knocked on his door, it took a few minutes for him to open it, and when he did, I sighed.

He was bleary and puffy-eyed, his mouth drawn downward, unnaturally, into a grimace. And he was naked.

Duo’s body was incredible, lean and toned, and even though he was a good four inches shorter than me, he was strong enough and broad-shouldered enough that I only ever noticed our height difference when we kissed. 

I looked over him in appreciation, from his thoroughly mussed braid of hair to the dragon tattoo that started just above his heart and rose over his shoulder, out of sight and down his back, where the dragon’s tail curved between his shoulder blades. It wasn’t his only tattoo - he had the Aries constellation tattoo low on his right hip, the  winged staff of Asclepius on his right forearm. I loved his tattoos, and had traced them with my tongue and teeth and lips so many times. 

“When I said pants-optional, I meant don’t wear any,” he chided me, and immediately reached for my fly.

I grabbed his hands before he could fumble the top button free.

“You really have had an entire bottle of vodka.”

“I was  _ celebrating _ the happy nuptials of my most amazing and soon to be so fucking happy ex!”

I closed and locked the door behind me, and nudged Duo towards the kitchen.

“Have you eaten anything?”

“Had some goldfish at lunch,” he shrugged.

It was nearly midnight. Duo was going to have a terrible morning.

“Do you work tomorrow?”

“Not ‘til the night shift. Which means you and me have  _ plenty _ of time to fuck my brains out.”

He reached again for my jeans and, once again, I batted his hands away.

I opened his fridge, glad that it was always much better stocked than my own, and started to pull out the things I needed to make him an omelet.

“When is he getting married?” I asked.

“Fei?” The way Duo said his name, voice just a little breathy - the same way he said  _ my _ name when I had his cock in my mouth and he was coming - made it abundantly clear that Duo was in no way over the man.

“Him,” I agreed. “Unless you have  _ another _ ex getting married?”

“Probably. Probably they’re all off getting their happy fucking ever fucking afters, while me…” he trailed off, and I didn’t know if it hurt more or less that he didn’t go into detail about what  _ he _ was stuck with.

“When is  _ this _ wedding?” I asked, cracking an egg a little too forcefully and spattering myself with the yolk.

“Saturday. Saturday at the fucking  _ country club _ where Ro is a member.”

Ro - Heero - Duo’s former best friend. I had heard Duo spill the entire story in the hospital when I asked where his friends - family - boyfriend were, and why they weren’t visiting him.

_ Family’s dead. Friends are gone - boyfriend took the last one. Dumped me and moved out of my place and into Ro’s place in the same fucking day. Not that I can blame him. Ro’s everything I’m not. Rich, successful - he’s a fucking doctor. No failing  _ his _ MCATS. Handsome. Fuck. He and Fei are fucking perfect together _ .

“I’m free on Saturday.” I had to grab his hand as he reached for the burner, and give him a warning look. “Go sit over there,” I pointed at the opposite counter.

He made a face, but he obligingly lifted himself onto the counter, and I had to smirk as I thought about Duo’s bare ass on the countertop that he kept obsessively clean. I’d tried to fuck him in the kitchen once, months ago, and he had said there was no way - semen did  _ not _ come out of the butcher’s block countertops. He was going to hate himself - and probably me - when he was sober.

“Are you sure you want to go?” I turned to face him as I beat the eggs, and he shrugged one shoulder.

“No? Yes? My best friend and the love of my life are getting hitched, and I- fuck. I’m so fucking pathetic. I  _ want _ them to be happy. I do. I- I should go, right?”

I didn’t think so. I thought he should burn whatever invitation he had been sent - sent  _ late, _ I couldn’t help but think, as I realized there was no way anyone would send out their wedding invitations a  _ week _ before the ceremony. 

“Not my decision.” I would also, of course, punch both Fei and Heero in the face, if I was Duo.

I poured the eggs into the hot skillet, and then shredded a piece of sliced ham and sliced cheese on top.

“They’re going to think I still hate them, if I don’t go.”

“Don’t you?” I asked.

“I dunno. I just… I had it coming, you know? I… I should have tried to do more with my life. Should have tried to fit into Fei’s life better or-”

“Duo, shut the fuck up.” I flipped the omelet and then turned to glare at him. “You’re a pediatric nurse. You save  _ kid’s lives _ . Tell me how you could be doing more?”

“I could be a doctor. I could-”

“You don’t have to be a doctor, Duo! And it’s  _ bullshit _ that Fei ever made you feel like you weren’t enough for him.”

Duo looked torn, as if he wanted to believe me but still had trouble thinking his mythically perfect ex could ever be wrong. 

It might be a bad idea for me to go to this wedding -  _ I _ might punch Fei if I met him.

I plated the omelet, turned off the stove, and reached between Duo’s legs to open his silverware drawer.

He chuckled, leaning back and lifting his legs to give me access, and then, when I closed the drawer, he wrapped his legs around my hips and pulled me close.

I rolled my eyes and ignored his hands as they edged under my shirt and ran over my back.

“Duo.”

He looked up at me, at the forkful of omelet I held out, and sighed. He opened his mouth and let me feed him.

“So you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?” I asked him as he ate.

Duo nodded, and he looked sheepish.

“I just… I don’t want him to think I’ve spent the last nine months miserable and… pining after him, or whatever the fuck.”

I lifted an eyebrow. I was pretty sure that was  _ exactly _ what Duo had been doing for the last nine months, never more certain of it than I was now. I realized that I was probably just a distraction, for Duo, a body to bury his cock in while he closed his eyes and wished I was someone else.

“Have you?” I asked the dangerous question.

“I dunno. Maybe? A little. Yeah. Of course I have. He… He said he loved me and wanted to spend the rest of his life with me - and then he dumped me for my best friend. It’s not all that easy to get over that.”

I didn’t think it would be. But still…

Duo finished the omelet, and I put the plate in the sink.

“I’m not… would it really be that hard to pretend to be my boyfriend for a few hours?”

I turned at his voice, at the broken catch.

He was still sitting on the counter, his head resting against the upper cabinets, and his eyes looked so desperate.

“No,” I assured him, ignoring the lump in my throat. “It wouldn’t be that hard.”

“So you’ll do it?”

I nodded. How the hell was I supposed to say no?

He grinned and hopped down from the counter, his balance off, and he ended up more or less falling against me.

“Thanks, babe.” He winked up at me. “I promise I’ll make it up to you. In fact, why don’t I get a  _ head _ start on it?”

He was once again reaching for my jeans, and this time I let him. Duo was nothing if not determined. And maybe I was just enough of a selfish asshole that I  _ wanted _ him to need my body to forget about Fei and Heero and everything else.

As he undressed me, Duo clumsily maneuvered us out of the kitchen, but we didn’t quite make it to the bedroom. Instead, when I bumped into his dining room table, Duo grinned and pushed my back down, so that I was laid out on the table like a feast for him.

“How was the bar tonight?” he asked, his lips grazing mine in a kiss that was just a tease. He moved lower, licking and biting my neck, my shoulders.

“It was fine.”

“Anyone crazy try to take you home?”

I wasn’t sure why I had done it - but when Duo asked me what kind of job I had, I had lied and told him I tended bar at a strip club downtown. 

I did  _ work _ there part- time, so it wasn’t entirely a lie. But the only time I went near the bar was to dance on it. 

I wasn’t  _ ashamed _ of what I did, not exactly. But in the past, when the men I dated - however casually or seriously - found out what I did for a living, it completely changed their perception of me. I had had two guys dump me, after finding out, and while I didn’t think Duo was that much of a prude - not considering the words that came out of his mouth and the way he liked to fuck - I also didn’t want to have to see the way he would look at me, once he knew. Because I wasn’t just a stripper, I was a prostitute, and I wasn’t about to have yet  _ another _ argument with someone about me not respecting myself enough, not  _ valuing _ myself enough. Duo had a savior complex that rivaled that of Jesus, and I didn’t want to know whether or not he thought that  _ I _ needed saving.

“Not tonight,” I told him, and then groaned when he bit down on my left nipple. He looked up at me, a devilish grin on his face. 

He moved to my other side, torturing me until I was arching off the table, and then he licked his way down my abs, his tongue taking the same path that my hand had travelled earlier in the night, when I had stripped for Wufei.

“God, Tro, you have the most amazing cock I’ve ever seen,” he breathed against my shaft, before licking the blunt head of my cock. He swirled his tongue around the tip before sucking on it, and I had to fist my hands into his hair, had to anchor myself because the way he worshipped me made me feel completely untethered, made my nerve endings feel electrified and made me forget how to even speak.

After a moment, he pulled back, his lips red and wet, his eyes dark.

“Want to fuck my mouth?” he offered. 

Duo didn’t like to bottom, had only done it for me twice, both times his body so tense that I’d been worried I was causing him physical pain, before he confessed that he couldn’t enjoy it, never had. I hadn’t pressed him for more of an explanation, though it was clear this wasn’t a simple preference for topping. I enjoyed both positions - and certainly had no complaints if all Duo wanted to do was top me. 

Especially since there was this - as much as Duo seemed unable to relax or relinquish the control necessary to bottom, he  _ loved _ having me fuck his mouth, and I loved to do it. There was something about the sight of him, straining to breathe, his cheeks bulging with effort, his mouth and chin coated in saliva and semen, that fed the primitive desire I had to possess him. 

“Yes,” I hissed when he dragged his teeth along the sensitive underside of my cock. I closed my eyes, giving myself over to the sensation, the pleasure and just that hint of fear.

“Then do it.”

I opened my eyes to see him on his knees, his hair a beautiful mess around his face, his mouth wide and waiting.

I stood up and ran my thumbs along his jaw, over his lips, and he bit down on my right thumb, lips forming a grin around the digit.

“That hardly makes me trust you,” I pointed out.

“You can trust me,” he whispered. “You can always trust me to take care of you, Tro.”

I swallowed hard at his words. I knew he just meant sex, but I couldn’t help the stupid, unbidden hope that he might mean more than that.

I moved my hands, holding my cock and guiding it toward his lips with one hand and, with the other, taking a fistful of his hair.

Duo moaned - he was full of contradictions. He hated to have his hair pulled or fussed with when he  _ wasn’t _ naked and being fucked, but when he  _ was _ he loved it.

He opened his mouth, taking my cock in, and I sank into his wet heat, easing my length between his lips, over the soft scrape of his teeth and tongue, until I nudged the back of his throat. He adjusted the angle of his head, and I was able to go further, so deep that my shaved pelvis met his cheeks.

“How the fuck do you do that?” I breathed, amazed, as I always was, by how easy he made it look to deepthroat me.

_ Practice _ , he had said once, a wicked grin on his face.  _ Lots and lots of practice _ .

I shifted my other hand, mirroring my grip on his hair, and I moved back before thrusting forward again,  and he moaned or hummed or did  _ something _ that sent vibrations of pleasure through me.

The first time he had invited me to fuck his mouth, after he had had to beg me to stop fucking his ass for the second, and last time, I had been hesitant - had thought it was a consolation that he didn’t really want to offer. But he had taken over, then, after I had given a few shallow, weak thrusts. He had gripped my hips tightly and proceeded to show me just what he meant when he said I could fuck him as hard and as fast as I wanted.

By now, he didn’t need to prove anything to me - I had long since abandoned my reservations, and it was  _ me _ who held him in place while I pistoned my hips over and over again, driving my cock so deep I was convinced he had  _ no _ gag reflex at all. Every few thrusts, I would pull out entirely, just to see him suck in deep, chest-heaving breaths, to see the saliva connecting us, and then I would plunge back in, always trying to take him by surprise if I could, because his eyes would go wide and he would moan, then, as if I’d done something he didn’t even know he wanted. 

The room was still and silent, except for the movement of my body into his, the sound of his struggled breathing, my own not much better. I was quiet, usually, during sex. At least, sex with him. With clients, I was loud unless told to be otherwise, because being vocal and flattering resulted in better tips. But sex with Duo wasn’t like that. Sex with Duo was real, and it was just for us.  _ This _ was just for me, and Duo didn’t care that I didn’t cry out or mutter curses or encourage him with anymore more than the movements of my body. Sometimes, when I’d had a few beers and was just tipsy enough to feel comfortable in my own skin, I would tell him what to do, how to fuck me, and I knew he loved those times as much as I did. I wished I felt the confidence to do it when I didn’t have alcohol to bolster me.

“I’m close,” I whispered, an unnecessary warning. Duo never complained about swallowing my come - had, in fact, complained when I  _ did _ pull out. As much as I wanted to see my pleasure decorating his chest or face, Duo swore he enjoyed the taste of it, and besides, semen made his skin break out.

He was looking up at me with his wide, pleading eyes, his face flushed, his entire world focused down to my pleasure. I wondered, not for the first time, how the hell Fei had managed to walk away from this. I didn’t know a single thing about Heero - although I had seen a photo of him, once, on Duo’s phone - but there was no way he could offer what Duo did. 

It wasn’t even just about the sex, about the earth-shattering head that Duo could give, or the slow, tortuous way he fucked me while telling me how perfect, how amazing, I was. Duo was one of the most generous, most  _ decent _ people I had ever met. Even if he did have a mouth like a sailor and a temper that ran hotter than the sun, Duo always knew when to let things go, when to accept the blame and offer an apologetic smirk.

I realized, as I climaxed and Duo reached out to pull me closer as he milked my cock dry and my body burned away with the release, that I wasn’t going to have any trouble pretending to be in love with Duo.

I already was.

 


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: For Crafty Companion, who requested a few text posts using 3x2. I decided to combine all of them into one fic, which you maybe intended anyway? ( (text): me.you.a bottle of vodka. My place. now,(text) pants optional,(text) wanna be my plus one for my ex's wedding? And pretend to be in love with me?).

Also- wishing you the happiest of Birthdays!

A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to Ro. 

A/N 3: Guest reviewer on ff.net!!! Why won’t you sign in?? HOW DID YOU KNOW THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN THE STAFFS???? HOW DID YOU KNOW THIS WAS A THING??? Ahem. Anyway. Good eyes there/knowledge. To answer your question, I’m not sure if it WILL become a plot point, but yes, Duo knew that tat he was getting and he knew why he was getting it and it IS different than the Rod of Asclepius for a reason.

  
  


Warnings: angst, language, sexy times

Pairings: 3x2/2x3, 1x5, past 2x5

 

_ The First Five Times _

Chapter Three

 

It was Cathy who had told me to save, to be smart, to know that the money was  _ good _ in sex work, but it wasn’t a career you got to retire from at the age of sixty-five. So be smart. Start a savings account. Go to college.

School was not something I had ever enjoyed. As a kid, even when I  _ was _ in one place long enough to steadily attend, I hadn’t been able to focus. It had always been difficult for me to sit still, to listen to the teachers, to ignore the bullying and taunting of other students. By the time I ran from my last foster home, by the time I had to figure out how to make it on my own, I was fifteen and had no regrets at all about never setting foot in a classroom again.

At least, not until this past fall, when I had signed up for a GED prep course and spent six weeks working my ass off, struggling through the material, feeling like a complete idiot - and then, ridiculously, feeling like even more of an idiot when I actually passed the damned test. 

And then, of course, Cathy had bullied me into signing up for classes at Los Angeles City College, the same community college where she took classes.

And then, of course, a few months ago, Duo had come over to my apartment, had seen my half-open backpack and the biology textbook, and his eyes had  _ lit up _ and he had praised me, hadn’t even thought to tease me about being twenty-seven and learning things he had known since high school. Instead, he curled up on my couch, grabbed my flashcards, and insisted on helping me study.

And now, today, this very minute, I finished answering the last question on my bio exam. I looked at it, still struggling to come to terms with the fact that this was  _ me _ . That  _ I _ , the kid who had been called stupid and slow for years, was learning. Was  _ doing _ . 

I turned in the exam and packed up my supplies and walked out of the room, out of the building, and into the late afternoon sun.

I felt so accomplished, and I doubted that feeling - I knew that at any moment something would happen,  _ I _ would do something, and fuck it up. Or - perhaps  _ and _ \- it was silly for me to feel this proud of myself. One semester of community college was nothing. The dozens of eighteen year olds in the room I had just left were able to do this half-asleep - they didn’t have to reread the same question three times. They didn’t erase their answer four times before deciding the first response had been correct, after all. They hadn’t thrown away decades of their lives.

I pulled my phone out, wanting to push away all of my fears, my doubts.

I texted Cathy first

**Done. I did okay** .

And then I scrolled for the text chat I had running with Duo, and I had to smirk, just a little, as I saw the last two lines from our argument earlier in the week.

**I fucking hate you. For the last fucking time, penguins are not birds, they’re mammals.**

And then, of course, my response had been the link to a wikipedia page that clearly stated that penguins were birds.

I wasn’t sure  _ why _ Duo so passionately believed penguins were mammals - especially considering the hundreds of years of scientific classification to the contrary, but he refused to acknowledge penguins as birds.

**Just finished my exam.**

I sent the text and started walking towards my car.

We hadn’t spoken, or seen each other, since the other night. Since Duo had asked me to be his fake boyfriend. We had texted, of course, but, even though we could have spent time together last night, Duo had begged off - had suggested I take the time to study and promised we would do something tonight, if I wanted to.

Of course, it was a Friday night tonight, and making plans with Duo meant trading shifts at the club, meant giving up the best shift of the week, but I did it.

It was only now, as I waited for him to text me back, that I wondered if he would blow me off again. He might.

Things had been awkward, the morning after, with Duo mumbling an apology for drinking so much, his voice rough with sleep and, no doubt, the effects of the vodka and me fucking his mouth so thoroughly. I had shrugged off the apology, had showered while he brooded over his coffee and breakfast until I judged his hangover under control and suggested we grab lunch together before his shift at the hospital. He had been silent throughout, and I had been too afraid of being the reason for his scowl to ask about it.

**I’ll bet you kicked ass, Tro. I’ve got another half-hour here, and then I’ll be home. I need to shower. but then we can get dinner to celebrate? Wanna meet me at home?**

I was relieved that he wasn’t blowing me off, and had to smirk at the idea of  _ celebrating _ finishing my last exam of the semester. 

Maybe I  _ had _ accomplished something worthwhile.

**I need to shower too.**

**Meet you in my tub? Or do you wanna actually get CLEAN?**

I chuckled and thought back to our last shared shower, a few weeks ago. We had only made it as far as soaping up each other’s cocks, and my ass. 

**Need to get a change of clothes. Should be at your place when you get there.**

Because of traffic, though, he actually beat me to his place, and when I knocked on his front door, he let me in, grinning and naked.

I had a sense of deja vu, thinking back to the other night, but when Duo pulled me down for a kiss, I knew he hadn’t been drinking. 

“Congrats,” he said when he released me. “How’s it feel to be done?”

I shrugged and followed him through the apartment, pulling off my clothes as we walked towards the bathroom.

“I’m relieved. I think I did okay.”

“I’m sure you did, Tro. Did it help - studying last night instead of wasting time with me?”

The question stopped me in my tracks, my jeans halfway down my ass, and I stared at him.

“You really- you weren’t trying to avoid me, last night?”

He lifted one eyebrow in disbelief.

“No? Why would I- Tro, I just… I really thought you’d want to study. I remember, back when I was in school, I would be a total fucking mess before exams, and I just… wanted to give you space, you know? If you’d fucked up today, it would have been my fault, and I…” Duo shrugged, and I saw him reach for his back pockets. Of course, he was  _ naked, _ and so he ended up awkwardly putting his hands on his narrow hips and looking up at me through his bangs. 

I had to smirk.

“I didn’t fuck up,” I assured him, and shoved my pants the rest of the way down.

He grinned, looking over my naked body.

“Tro, I think you forgot underwear today.” He reached out for my hips, pulling me close, fitting our bodies together.

I brushed his bangs away from his forehead and then cradled his head between my hands.

“Thank you, for… looking out for me.” I wasn’t used to that, to people  _ caring _ enough to be concerned, to plan  _ for _ me.

Cathy did it, and even now, five years after I had first met her, it still irritated me sometimes when she stepped in and tried to  _ help _ me. It also, more often than not, left me better off. 

“Anytime.”

Duo stood up on his toes and pressed a kiss to my lips, gentle and a little teasing, until I kissed him back. As soon as my tongue twined around his,  _ gentle _ was forgotten. 

We didn’t make it to the shower; we  _ barely _ made it to his bed.

Duo’s hands were everywhere, tracing down my spine to knead my ass, tweaking my nipples and raking over my thighs with his short nails. He knew how to touch me, knew all of my most sensitive spots, and knew how to have me arching into him, thrusting my cock against his belly, pleading for more with my mouth and hands. 

“Tro, God, Tro, you feel so damn good,” Duo murmured against my skin as he dragged his lips across my throat. I curved my neck, angling for more, and he chuckled. I shivered at the sensation - hot puffs of air, his smooth lips. “What do you want?”

I had to close my eyes, had to suck in a deep breath that I immediately released as a moan when he bit down on my shoulder. 

“You,” I sighed. “I want you, Duo.”

I felt the press of his smirk against my chest. 

“Want me to do what, Tro? Want me to jerk you off?” He ran one hand down to my cock, pulling the skin taut and then smoothing it back down, over and over until I was thrusting into his hand.

“Or do you want something else? Want me to suck your cock, Tro?” He started to kneel down, and while yes, I  _ did _ want that, there was something I wanted more.

I stopped him, my hands gripping his shoulders and pulling him back upright, and he looked at me with dark, amused eyes.

“What?” he asked, lips teasing against mine. “You want me to  _ fuck _ you instead?”

I nodded and swallowed hard. “Yes, Duo.”

He ran his right hand over my ass, between the cheeks, and teased me with a single finger.

I pushed back against him and he chuckled.

“Let me get some lube first, Tro.” He nudged me back onto his bed and climbed over my body, his cock dangling over my face, as he reached into the nightstand for lube and a condom.

I occupied myself by tilting my head up and licking his cock.

“Fuck, Tro,” Duo laughed, startled and aroused. 

I smirked at the sound, at the way his hips pivoted to give me a better angle.

“Oh, yeah, Tro, your mouth is so fucking hot,” Duo moaned, as I eased the head of his cock between my lips, teasing it with my tongue, sucking only enough to make him want more. “Mmn, you fucking tease.” He laughed again, a rough, deep chuckle that vibrated through my body. “You  _ cock _ tease,” he amended, and then groaned when I ran my teeth over his shaft. He liked that, more than anyone else I had ever been with.

At work, when I gave blowjobs, I never used my teeth unless explicitly told to do so by a client. Too many people found it more anxious than arousing, and, for myself, I never found it too enjoyable when someone went out of their way to scrape their teeth over my cock. Duo, on the other hand, seemed to love it.

But, this time, he pulled out of my mouth and crawled back down my body before laying on top of me, replacing his cock with his mouth, his tongue thrusting between my lips just as insistently, and I gave it the same treatment.

He reached between us, one hand curling around my cock, and stroked it firmly, swiftly - the pace I liked best.

When Duo broke our kiss, we were both breathing hard, and I knew my eyes were as unfocused, as filled with lust, as his own.

“I wish we had time for a marathon,” he said, “but our reservations are for seven, and-”

“Reservations?”

He nodded. “For dinner. To celebrate.”

I could only stare at him.

He had made dinner reservations. And I- 

I had never been taken somewhere that required  _ reservations _ .

“Is that- okay?” He looked uncertain as he studied my face.

“It is,” I assured him. “I- I just brought jeans and a button-up with me. Is-”

“That’s fine,” Duo said. He pressed a quick, hard kiss to my mouth before opening the lube. “It’s just a steak place in Malibu. You’ll look amazing. Hell, you  _ always _ look amazing, Tro.”

He was taking me out to a steak place in Malibu to celebrate me finishing my first semester of community college.

I kissed him, hoping to convey something of what I felt, what I couldn’t put into words. I was too afraid of sounding pathetic, of revealing just how pathetic I  _ was _ . This was so ordinary - something other people did all of the time, and I knew that. But for me…

Duo kissed me back, and it felt like he understood, or at least, as if he  _ cared _ .

Even though he had said we didn’t have time for a marathon, Duo took his time preparing me, stretching me far more carefully than he needed to, his touch tender, his lips swallowing my moans, the pleading noises I made as I begged for  _ more _ until finally, after what seemed like an hour of teasing me, I felt the slick press of his cock, the smooth barrier of latex, and he pushed in, filling my body in one swift push that left us both breathless and clinging together.

“Oh, Tro, I could happily die buried in you.” He pushed my hair, sweaty and disheveled, out of my face and looked into my eyes, his expression serious. 

I could tell he wanted to say something, could practically see his lips forming words, but instead of voicing whatever thought was on his mind, he leaned down and kissed my forehead, his lips parted, his tongue flicking across the sweat on my brow.

“That can be arranged,” I panted, shifting under him, “if you don’t  _ move _ .”

He chuckled, tension easing out of his body, and he flexed his hips, his cock driving deep again, brushing against my prostate.

“That what you want?” he asked. He did it again, lifting my left leg and wrapping it around his ass so he could fuck me from a better angle. 

I didn’t need to respond - at least, not with words. The way I arched my body upwards to meet his thrusts, my fingers clutching at his hair, my gasps of pleasure, answered for me. And he knew my body, knew what I liked, and, as always, he gave it to me.

“God, Tro, I could fuck you all night. You feel so good, so fucking tight and hot.” Duo’s lips were pressed against my hair, the words a rough whisper into my scalp.

I tugged on his hair and he chuckled.

“What, babe? Something else you need?”

_ Babe _ . He called me that, sometimes, when he wasn’t thinking, when he was so far gone in pleasure that he seemed to forget we were just friends. Every time he said it, I felt a shiver of hope and desire that got harder and harder to ignore.

Duo moved one hand down to my cock.

“This?” he asked, thumbing the slit on the head of my cock until I moaned. “Yeah,” he answered his own question. “I’m going to keep fucking you until you come for me, Tro. So, you know, feel free to take your time.”

I had to laugh at that, and he grinned at me before kissing me. Sex with Duo was always intense, but more often than not, it was also  _ fun _ in a way that I hadn’t realized, before him, that sex could be. He teased me, and he let  _ me _ tease  _ him _ . 

“Harder,” I told him, moving against him to demonstrate what I wanted.

“Like this?” He pulled out and then pushed back in, and I nodded. Yes. Just like that.

Duo kept his pace slow, but he did use more force, his cock filling me in slow, hard thrusts that had me clutching Duo’s ass in appreciation.

His hand on my cock, thankfully, wasn’t moving as slowly, and I could feel the pressure in my balls build, could feel my orgasm approaching, and I let myself move against him, rolling my hips against his, fucking his hand and his cock as I moved up and then down, desperate for contact.

“Close?” He kissed me again, sucking my lower lip into his mouth, and I held the back of his head with one hand, keeping him close, and he swallowed my gasp when I came. 

I felt that blinding rush of euphoria, of sensation and heat, and I clung to Duo, letting it wash through me, over me, surround me. 

It was never like this, with clients. Even when the sex was good - and it was more often than not - I didn’t let myself ride my climax like this. It wasn’t, after all, about me, and it wouldn’t do to get too carried away. My business was  _ their _ pleasure, not my own. 

Duo kept kissing me, kept stroking me, and I gradually came back to myself, to the feeling of come on my belly, to his cock pushing into my sensitive ass, to Duo’s ragged breathing and the weight of his body.

“I love watching you get off, Tro. So. Fucking. Hot.” He punctuated each of his words with a thrust of his cock. “Oh, babe, I’m gonna come. Oh, fuck, Tro, fuck, fuck,  _ fuck _ .” He gave one last, full thrust, and I felt his body shudder, felt his hips spasm forward as he came. I looked up at his face, at his eyes screwed shut and his parted lips, and I thought he was beautiful. 

 


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: For Crafty Companion, who requested a few text posts using 3x2. I decided to combine all of them into one fic, which you maybe intended anyway? ( (text): me.you.a bottle of vodka. My place. now,(text) pants optional,(text) wanna be my plus one for my ex's wedding? And pretend to be in love with me?).

Also- wishing you the happiest of Birthdays!

A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to Ro. 

  
  


Warnings: angst, language, sexy times

Pairings: 3x2/2x3, 1x5, past 2x5

 

_ The First Five Times _

Chapter Four

 

I drank too much, which was entirely Duo’s fault. He insisted on ordering a bottle of wine, insisted on making a pretentious show of tasting it and smacking his lips together until I rolled my eyes and he smirked and pronounced it  _ suitable, _ and then he had one glass and kept refilling mine.

_ Celebrate _ , he said, his eyes dancing with amusement and happiness, with something that might have been pride. So I did. 

And after dinner, we walked on the beach, Duo lacing our fingers together and me bumping into him partly on purpose, partly because that had been a  _ lot _ of wine.

It felt like a date, felt like more of a date than almost any date I had ever been on, and I couldn’t help but wonder what it  _ would _ be like to date Duo - what it would be like to hold his hand in public, to lean over and steal a kiss while grabbing coffee or lunch, to have him introduce me to his friends as his boyfriend. His lover.

The thought brought heat to my face. I was being ridiculous. I was drunk and stupid.

We had been playing this game for five months - this not dating but fucking game - and if Duo had wanted more from me, he would have asked by now. 

I was his friend, and maybe,  _ tomorrow _ , he needed me to be more than that - but that was it. 

He would never introduce me as his lover, and I would certainly never introduce Duo to  _ my _ friends as anything - not with all of the shit Cathy gave me about Duo, the way she teased me about him, the way she made pointed comments about honesty and relationships. Alex and Ralph - the two strippers I worked with on outside gigs and the only two I considered friends - would either embarrass the hell out of Duo, or me. Probably both.

And, of course, any of those fantasy disasters required Duo  _ knowing _ what I did - knowing I was a stripper, at least. I couldn’t begin to imagine what his reaction to that would be, much less to the knowledge that I was also a prostitute.

I felt my good mood spiralling downward, felt the alcohol nudging it along into a dark place, and I wished, not for the first time, that I wasn’t such a maudlin drunk.

It was one of the reasons I didn’t like to drink  _ this _ much. A few beers, or a few shots, and I was fine - I was  _ fun _ . But almost an entire bottle of wine left me entirely too introspective, and more self-critical than I usually was.

“You want dessert? You want to go skinny dipping in the ocean? What next?” Duo asked suddenly, interrupting my dark thoughts and pulling me to a stop beside him in the shallow water we had been wading through.

Considering our proximity to the restaurants and parking lot - and the amount of beach activity on a clear Friday evening - I thought skinny dipping was probably a bad idea. I also wasn’t sure he was entirely serious about it. Then again, knowing Duo, he probably was.

“Home,” I decided. I was still full, and the thought of dessert was unappealing. Going home, though, curling up around him and maybe playing with his hair or laying back while he lazily sucked me off - that was appealing.

“Yours or mine?” he asked with a smirk.

I had been thinking of his, and it startled me to realize I had called  _ his _ apartment home.

“Doesn’t matter,” I muttered, trying to cover my embarrassment.

“Well, your car is at mine… and my bed is more comfortable. Unless you just want me to drop you, so you can sleep off-”

“No. I like your bed better, too.”

He grinned at me and leaned up to press a quick, gentle kiss to my lips.

“Good. I like my bed better with you in it.”

He held my hand on the walk back to the car, not so much pulling me after him as guiding me through the surf, making sure I didn’t lose my balance entirely, but letting me take my time.

When we got back to his place he led me to his bedroom, holding my hand again, and undressed me slowly, carefully - with none of the frantic lust from earlier - and when we were both naked, we crawled into bed and he spooned against my back, the steady thrum of his heart reminding me of the ocean.

“I, uh, I should warn you, about tomorrow,” he said, just as I felt my eyelids start to grow heavy and began to contemplate sleep.

“My duties as your fake boyfriend?”

“Yeah. That. I… I should have told you this a long time ago, but… well. I’m an asshole, and it was nice meeting someone who  _ didn’t _ know and…”

He trailed off, and he was quiet for so long I wondered if  _ he _ had fallen asleep.

I pulled away from his arms and rolled over to look at him. He was definitely awake, his dark eyes staring intently into mine, and in the dim light of the bedroom I could make out a grimace on his face.

I waited for him to continue.

“I think I mentioned, before, that I had a brother?”

“Solo.” Duo had mentioned him twice - once, in the hospital when we first met, to tell me he was dead. A second time had been two months ago, when Solo’s birthday had passed and Duo had mentioned it and begged me not to let him think about it.

“Yeah. He and I… We were fucking stupid, as kids. We did all kinds of bad shit and… Well, the short of it is that we were pretty heavily into drugs, mostly heroin, but some of the club shit too. When I was twenty-five, he overdosed - died in my fucking arms, and I… Well, I guess I realized we weren’t immortal and I went into rehab, got myself sober, and I met Fei. He was my sponsor.”

_ That _ was a lot to process, and I struggled with it for several minutes.

Duo as a drug addict… made  _ complete _ sense to me. I remembered how he had refused to fill the prescription on his pain medication - his opioid pain medication - after he had been shot. And there had been that one time, before we had started fucking, when Alex had given me some Ecstasy and I had brought it home, had taken one pill and offered Duo the other and Duo had stared at me like I was crazy, had forced water down my throat and sat with me for hours until I came down from it, and then he had gone home without saying a word. It also explained the drinking - or his usual lack  _ of _ . 

I wondered how it had affected his work. He had been a nurse for five years now - so before Solo’s death, before going into rehab. I wasn’t about to ask, but I had to wonder. I also wondered how much of his failure to get into med school was related to that…

The sidetrack my thoughts were taking was abruptly derailed as I thought about the last thing Duo had said.

“You dated your sponsor?”

“Not… at first. For six months, we just… Hell, I thought he fucking hated me, thought he looked at me and saw the scum of the earth and I… I was always a fucking disappointment to him. It took me so fucking long to get my shit together, and I kept… I kept fucking up. Having bad moments that turned into bad nights that turned into bad weeks and…”

“How long have you been clean?” I asked.

“Five-hundred and forty-five days,” he answered with a faint, crooked grin. “I drink still, sometimes, but that… that was never my problem. Easy to walk away from a bottle. Not so much everything else.”

I could understand that. I could definitely appreciate the difference.

What I  _ couldn’t _ understand or appreciate was the fact that Fei had dumped Duo and moved in with his  _ best _ friend - two people who should have cared more, should have-

“Hey,” he reached out and ran his thumb over the crease between my eyes. “Don’t go thinking bad shit about whatever or whoever. I just wanted you to know, in case someone mentions something. It’s not… it’s not who I am anymore, but, well, I guess it’s  _ always _ who I’m gonna be. And I really should have told you, before. I just…”

“I understand,” I interrupted his apology. I  _ did _ understand, completely.

He didn’t want me to think of him like that, to look at him take a drink and wonder if he wanted to get high. 

Just like I didn’t want him to watch me go down on him and wonder if I sucked his dick the same way I did my clients.

It was  _ nice _ not knowing, not being afraid. It was nice to be this part of me and not  _ all _ of me. 

“You’re incredible,” I told him.

Duo snorted derisively.

“No, I’m fucking not. I’m just barely hanging on, Tro. Every damn day is a fucking struggle, and I- There’s so much shit I regret. Solo. Solo- and… I did some really stupid, fucking fucked up stuff, Tro. I put myself in situations… I let…” He trailed off and shook his head. “I’m not incredible. I’m scraping by, and I’m lucky as hell to still be alive.”

“Me too,” I had to agree, and he gave me a sharp look.

He knew, in the vaguest sense, that I hadn’t had an easy childhood, that I had never finished high school and that I had spent years roaming the country before settling in LA, before finding my steady employment as a “bartender.” Duo never pressed for details, but he always seemed interested, willing to listen, on the very rare occasions I  _ did _ talk about myself.

“Tro-  _ you’re _ incredible. Going back to school - putting your life together and, hell, letting drunk people grope you at work. You’re a fucking saint.”

I was glad for the darkness, for his inability to see my flush of shame. 

“We’re both lucky,” I decided, and leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips, lingering until he opened his mouth and let me swipe my tongue against his. He sighed, relaxing against me and wrapping a hand around the back of my head to pull me close.

When we pulled apart, I pressed my forehead against his and closed my eyes, breathing him in and trying to push away my guilt, my cowardice.

Eventually, I fell asleep.

 

-o-

 


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: For Crafty Companion, who requested a few text posts using 3x2. I decided to combine all of them into one fic, which you maybe intended anyway? ( (text): me.you.a bottle of vodka. My place. now,(text) pants optional,(text) wanna be my plus one for my ex's wedding? And pretend to be in love with me?).

Also- wishing you the happiest of Birthdays!

A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to Ro. 

  
  


Warnings: angst, language, sexy times

Pairings: 3x2/2x3, 1x5, past 2x5

 

_ The First Five Times _

Chapter Five

 

Ironically, I  _ had _ been to a wedding before as a fake boyfriend.

One of my regulars, who visited the club  _ and _ made use of my private services, had asked me to go with him to his sister’s wedding two years ago. Apparently, his ex-wife was friends with the groom and he wanted to rub her face in the fact that he had come out. Of course, she hadn’t even shown up to the wedding, and the entire afternoon had been a tedious series of greetings and me covertly checking my phone to see just how much longer it would last.

Maybe I should start advertising that as one of my services -  _ stripper, prostitute, fake boyfriend for hire _ .

Not that Duo had hired me, and I really didn’t want to associate him with any of that. And, of course, there was the glaring reality that I wanted, very much, to be his  _ real _ boyfriend.

I had the mildest of hangovers Saturday morning, and I had no problem letting Duo make me breakfast and, smirking, insist on feeding it to me in an imitation of what I had done for him the other night.

I could tell, from the way he kept biting his lower lip, that he was uneasy about his confession from the night before, that he was worried I had decided to judge him for it after all.

“Duo.”

He lifted an eyebrow, his mouth full of food, since he had decided to feed himself every other bite of the omelet he brought me.

“You owe me a serious sex marathon after today.”

His expression smoothed out and he grinned at me.

I knew him well enough, after all of these months, to know that if I tried to belabour the point - if I kept insisting he was amazing - he would just dig in his heels and start to doubt my words even more. The best thing to do was to change the subject, to show him I hadn’t changed my mind about him at all.

He swallowed his food and waggled his eyebrows at me, in the comically suggestive expression that he somehow managed to make look attractive.

“Like the kind where I keep you naked in my bed all day? Or the kind where we have sex on every surface in my apartment -  _ not _ the fucking countertops,” he added hastily when my eyes lit up.

I smirked and shrugged one shoulder. They both sounded appealing.

“Oh, that reminds me,” he said, interrupting my decision-making, “one of my kid’s parents works for the Dodgers and scored me some tickets for a game next week - it’s an afternoon game, think you can make it?”

I had to raise an eyebrow.

“How the hell does a sex marathon remind you of a patient and  _ baseball _ ?”

He grinned and chuckled ruefully.

“Oh, just - trading favors or whatever. I saved his kid’s life and he got me baseball tickets.  _ You’re _ saving my dignity, so I’m getting you lots of sex.”

“Right.”

He gave me a look, which I returned.

Predictably, Duo looked away first, grumbled as he stabbed the fork into the last piece of omelet and then held it out to me.

I ate it and watched him get up from the bed, wearing only  _ my _ briefs because they had been the closest.

I heard him go into the kitchen and rinse off the plate before putting it into the dishwasher.

He came back into the room and leaned against the doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest and looking at me, still naked and tangled in his sheets.

“We could just skip this whole thing,” I suggested, running my right hand down my chest and abs before giving my soft cock a lazy tug, “and start the sex marathon right now.”

“That’s tempting,” he sighed, and then scrubbed his eyes with his palms, “but I… It’s something I want to do. Well, I don’t fucking  _ want _ to do it. But I feel like I  _ need _ to, if that makes sense?”

It didn’t - if  _ I _ was in his place, I would have wanted nothing to do with Heero and Fei ever again. But this was Duo. Of course Duo couldn’t just turn his back and make a clean break.

I shrugged and then held out my hand.

He crossed over to the bed and took it, and smiled softly as he looked down at our hands, his skin so pale compared to mine.

“You did this - it’s one of the only things I remember, except for how much it fucking hurt. When I got shot? You held my hand and kept telling me how fucking stupid I was.”

“You  _ were _ ,” I grumbled, and tugged until he crawled into my lap. I let go of his hand and ran my fingers over the still-pink scar several inches above his left hip.

He wrapped his arms around my neck and kissed my forehead.

“We should get moving,” he said eventually. “You still need to go back to your place and get your suit, and-”

“A suit? You never said anything about me having to wear a suit.”

He looked down at me, incredulous, and then shook his head when he saw my smirk.

“I’ve never seen you in a suit,” he said, a gleam coming into his eyes. 

“I’ve never seen  _ you _ in a suit,” I pointed out.

He chuckled and got off my lap, standing beside the bed and stretching. I looked him over, and it was  _ very _ difficult to resist the urge to just pull him back to me.

“Just think of all the fun we’ll have tonight getting  _ out _ of the suits,” he said, noticing my attention.

_ That _ was something I could look forward, to, at least, and I comforted myself with that thought as I finally got out of the bed and dressed, forgoing my underwear. I kissed him as I left, just an absent-minded brush of my lips over his as I stuffed my wallet into my back pocket and then let myself out.

It was still early, so I didn’t encounter much traffic on the drive back to my apartment, which meant I had the time to take a long, leisurely shower.

We had never gotten around to it, last night - by the time Duo had dragged us out of his bed, we had had only enough time to pull on clean clothes, for me to try and  _ fail _ to do something about my hair and wipe the semen off my stomach.

I hadn’t complained then, but it felt good to finally shower  _ now _ , and by the time I finished, my hangover had faded.

I put on coffee to brew as I dealt with my hair and dressed in the suit I had laid out two days ago, just to make sure it was wrinkle-free.

It was navy, and I paired it with a white dress shirt and a sage green tie. Duo had mentioned the wedding was at a country club, and I wasn’t sure  _ how _ formal or informal this would be. I had a mental image of the rest of the guests in khakis and blazers, and Duo and I, walking in wearing suits, drawing the attention of everyone else.

Whatever.

I was used to being looked at, and if  _ Duo _ was going to wear a suit, I would too.

By the time I finished my coffee, Duo arrived at my apartment, and I had to smirk as I opened the door and looked at him.

He looked good, of course, his slim-cut suit sculpted to his body perfectly. But he also looked like he was going to a funeral - the suit was black, as was his tie, and I was sure that, had this been an evening wedding instead of an afternoon one, he would have worn a black dress shirt as well.

It amused me, but it also reminded me of how much this was going to hurt for Duo - and, by extension, for me.

I knew it was too much to hope that he could just get over them and think about  _ me _ . Heero was his childhood friend, and Fei - Fei had been there for some of the worst parts of Duo’s life, had stood beside him and loved him, and then  _ left _ him and taken Heero with him. That wasn’t something Duo could just get over. 

“Nice suit,” he said, reaching out to tweak my tie.

I smoothed it back down and grabbed my keys, locking the door behind us as I followed him to his car.

“Yours too,” I told him, admiring the way the trousers clung to his ass when he put his hands in the side pockets. “It’ll look better off, though,” I decided.

He smirked at me over his shoulder, and I smirked back.

We were, unfortunately and predictably, stuck in traffic. It was one of the things I despised about LA, and one of the things that I had never been able to get used to.

Duo, on the other hand, seemed perfectly content to lean back in his seat, drum his fingers on the steering wheel in time to a song on the radio, and creep along at five miles an hour.

By the time we arrived at the country club, the ceremony had already begun, and I could not bring myself to regret missing out on the first ten minutes of it.

We squeezed into seats in the back row of the chairs that had been spread out on a lawn overlooking a water feature of the golf course, and, as I had imagined, most of the guests were in khakis and blazers or sundresses.

They all looked so  _ dull, _ and I wondered how many of these people had been Duo’s friends - wondered if he had been like them, before. He sure as hell wasn’t  _ now _ . 

I also had to wonder what kind of person wanted to get married beside a  _ golf course, _ and how Duo had ever dated - or been friends - with someone like that.

I looked to the front, where two dark haired men in slate grey suits stood in front of a dark robed minister of some kind. 

One of the men had long, black hair loose around his shoulders, and standing to his right was a tall, attractive asian woman in a lavender dress who looked vaguely familiar. Standing beside the other man, on his left, was a blonde haired woman in the same style of dress.

I found it interesting that neither had  _ best men _ \- but then, Duo probably would have been Heero’s, whichever he was. I also had to wonder what their bachelor parties had been like.

Beside me, Duo’s eyes were riveted on the two men, his lips slightly parted, his expression unreadable. 

I found myself watching him, as the ceremony droned on, looking for reactions to the words being spoken by the two men to each other.

He closed his eyes when Heero said his vows, and I watched his throat work with the effort to swallow back his emotions before he was able to open his eyes again. And even then, there was a shimmer to the violet that made me reach out and take his hand in mine.

He looked over at me, startled, but then offered me a weak, grateful smile and squeezed my hand before letting go.

He sat up straighter in his chair as the other groom started to speak.

As  _ Wufei _ Chang accepted Heero Yuy to be his-

I looked away from Duo, my gaze drawn to the profile of the man speaking, and I felt my stomach plummet to the ground.

_ Holy shit _ .  _ No _ .

But it was. It was Wufei - and the woman beside him, I now realized, was Meilin. The woman who had hired me to strip at her cousin’s bachelor party.

_ No fucking way _ .

This could not be happening.

I had encountered clients in public before - regulars from the club once or twice, who had blushed and looked away; and the men who paid to fuck me, or have me fuck them. It was always awkward, always involved both of us being embarrassed, and usually  _ me _ doing my best to avoid coming into physical contact with them and looking away until the encounter ended. Once a man had been in line ahead of me, at the grocery store, with his son and daughter, and had recognized me as the prostitute he had fucked in a hotel room two weeks before, and he had  _ introduced _ me to his kids as a work friend. 

But I had never,  _ ever _ been in a situation like this.

As the two men kissed and smiled at each other and started down the aisle, holding hands and looking for all the world like the most content men on the planet, I realized that I was utterly fucked.

This wasn’t like standing in line or riding the bus or sitting in the waiting room at an office - this was a  _ wedding, _ and there was still the entire reception to get through.

There was virtually  _ no _ chance that I could get through this without having to meet Wufei. 

_ Fei _ , I thought, angry at myself - angry at Duo for only ever referring to his ex by the nickname, even though it would have meant nothing to me before this week.

After the couple passed us by, the guests rose from their chairs and started to talk to each other, and I saw someone head our way.

It was the blond haired man from Wufei’s party that night.

He was smiling at Duo, his entire attention on the other man, and I tried to ease away from his side.

“Quatre!” Duo threw his arms around the man and they embraced warmly.

“Duo, I’m so glad you came!” 

Quatre pulled away from the hug far enough to look Duo over.

“You’re looking well! How have you been?”

“Oh, you know, good,” Duo shrugged. “What about you? How’s work? Still chained to your desk, or has Zechs finally convinced you to take a vacation or two?”

Quatre rolled his eyes and was about to respond when he saw me. His smile shifted  _ immediately _ into a confused frown.

Duo followed his gaze to me.

“Oh, sorry - Quatre, this is Trowa. Trowa, this is Quatre. I went to school with him - and Heero and Rey.”

Quatre continued to stare at me, and I felt my face turn red.

Duo looked between us, raising his eyebrows in concern.

“Guys?”

“Sorry,” Quatre shook himself and then smiled again. He held out his hand to me and I took it, shaking it cautiously. “How did you two meet?” Quatre asked, not letting go of my hand.

“Funny story, that,” Duo rubbed at the back of his neck. “I got shot and -”

“You got  _ shot _ ?” Quatre dropped my hand, his full attention on Duo, and I breathed a sigh of relief.

“Yeah, it was… you know, one of those things.”

Quatre was scowling, and if I hadn’t been so busy trying to formulate a plan to vanish, I would have been scowling as well. Getting  _ shot _ was not just ‘one of those things.’

“Duo -”

“It was, like, forever ago. And I lived. So, you know, whatever. But I met Trowa and we’ve been… together,” he stumbled a little, looking to me for backup, “ever since.”

Right. I was his fake boyfriend.

I couldn’t really be his fake boyfriend  _ and _ vanish - but if I was recognized as the stripper from his ex’s bachelor party, would that really help anything?

Duo slid an arm around my waist, and I gave in, draping one arm over his shoulders and pressing my lips against his hair.

Quatre stared at us.

“Oh.  _ Oh _ . Wow. That’s… well, I can’t say that it’s great since you were  _ shot _ , but I’m glad you found each other.”

“Me too,” Duo said.

A cluster of sun dress- clad women descended on us in that moment, as well as a tall man with long blond hair, and Duo steered us immediately in the opposite direction.

“Whew. That wasn’t so bad, eh? Nice thing with the whole -” Duo gestured at his hair, where I had kissed him.

I had done it before, when we were in bed or sitting on the couch or cooking together. It had always felt so natural, such an easy expression of affection and -

And how the  _ fuck _ had I deluded myself into thinking I was fine being friends with benefits for the last five months?

“Of course,” Duo continued, oblivious to my inner turmoil, “Quatre was, like, the  _ easy _ one. Let’s just hope Mei is too busy to fuck with me - and Relena. And… Heero and Fei…” Duo sighed, and he looked as miserable as I felt.

“You can do this,” I assured him, though the words had little effect on  _ me _ .

He could get through this reception - he could get through  _ anything. _ Me, on the other hand…

I was still fucked.

The reception was indoors, in a large banquet hall that had been filled with six-person tables spread out to leave a large, open spot for dancing in front of a large, rectangular table set up for the wedding party.

Our seats were thankfully near the back of the room, and I found myself praying that the grooms never made it over to us.

Of course, prayers work better if you  _ believe _ in whoever or whatever you’re praying to.

I almost made it, too.

Heero and Wufei made a dramatic entrance, and everyone stood and clapped while they had their first dance, then they sat at their table, and Meilin and the blonde haired woman, - Rey, Duo whispered to me, - made speeches that had most of the crowd laughing, but just had me wondering how Duo had fit in with these people.

Actually, I could easily see him and Meilin as friends - it was the country club set, Heero’s friends and family, that really threw me. Meilin, though, spent her entire speech relating embarrassing stories about Wufei, a few about Heero, and one that I was positive Duo had told me already. She was sassy and clever - definitely Duo’s type of person.

After the toasts, the buffet tables were opened up and music turned on, and the guests began to mingle on the dance floor or at in the buffet line, and I wondered if I could suggest to Duo that we make an early night of it.

But just as I was leaning over to suggest that very thing, Wufei and Heero walked up to our table.

Duo’s eyes narrowed, and his hands clenched into fists under the table as they approached. 

I looked at them, at Heero, for the first time, and Wufei, for the second. And I finally let myself picture Duo and Wufei together. Heero and Wufei made a good couple, there was no denying it. They seemed relaxed in each other’s presence, their bodies turned towards each other in the way that some couples do. But I could so very easily see Duo and Wufei standing side by side - they would be gorgeous together, and I had no doubt that Duo would tease Wufei out of his stick in the mud attitude that Meilin had hinted at. And Wufei, of course, had been there by Duo’s side during the early days of his recovery.

Why, I had to wonder yet again, had things ended between them?

Of course, my curiosity about that was  _ nothing _ compared to my abject fear when Wufei’s dark gaze swept over me.

He stopped dead, two steps from our table, and Heero stumbled into him.

“What are you doing here?” he demanded, his face turning an interesting shade as his features screwed up into a grimace.

“He’s my date,” Duo spoke up after a moment, when I didn’t. When I  _ couldn’t _ .

“Your  _ date _ ?”

Wufei turned his gaze from me to Duo.

“Yeah, the invitation said I could have a plus one, and -”

“You brought a  _ stripper _ as your date to my wedding?”

To call the silence that fell after  _ that _ question awkward would have been the understatement of the century. Maybe the millenniuma.

Heero looked over at me, his blue eyes narrowed, and it was clear Wufei had related the events of his bachelor party to his now-husband. While part of me appreciated that they had that kind of relationship, a bigger part of me was irritated that even  _ more _ people knew - people who weren’t Duo. Yet. 

Because there was no way he  _ wasn’t _ about to realize it.

“You -” Wufei ran a hand over his face and shook his head while giving an exasperated sigh. “You paid him to be your date. Duo, I cannot  _ believe _ you had to -”

“I didn’t  _ pay _ him to be anything, Fei. He’s my fucking boyfriend.”

It was clear, from both Heero and Wufei’s expressions, that they thought Duo was lying. 

I was pretty certain kissing the top of Duo’s head wouldn’t convince these two in the same way it had convinced Quatre - and it definitely wouldn’t deal with the fact that Wufei had outed me.

“You’re dating a stripper.,” Wufei phrased it as a statement, but it was dripping with sarcasm.

I decided that, everything else aside, I did  _ not _ care for the way Wufei talked to Duo - as if he expected the worst from him.

I had to wonder how the hell he had been Duo’s sponsor, how the hell Duo had managed to get sober in the face of so much doubt and disapproval. 

“You kinda lost the right to care about who I date a long time ago,” Duo said, his voice tight.

I saw the words have an impact on Heero, more so than Wufei. He looked away from me, at last, and I saw his shoulders slump slightly. So he, at least, regretted losing Duo’s friendship. 

“But are you actually  _ dating _ him, or -”

Duo stood up from his chair, reaching down to grab my hand and haul me to my feet.

“Congrats and all that shit. Hope you two are happy forever. My present’s on the pile with all of the other crap - silver wrapping paper because they were fresh out of the  _ fuck you _ novelty paper.”

And with that, Duo turned on his heel and walked away, dragging me after him.

He was silent as he stormed through the country club, past waiters and golfers and a wide- eyed Quatre. He remained silent while we waited for the valet to retrieve his car, and once we were in the car, he glared silently ahead as he navigated traffic.

It wasn’t until he parked in front of my apartment that he spoke up, and even though I had known it was coming, I still found myself wincing at his tone.

“What the fuck was Wufei talking about when he called you a stripper? And why did Quatre recognize you?”

I figured I should treat this like pulling off a bandaid. Just… say it all at once. 

I also figured I shouldn’t look at him while I said it, because I really,  _ really _ didn’t want to see the judgement in his eyes.

“I  _ am  _ a stripper. I lied when I told you I tended bar at  _ Exiles _ . I strip there. And I work for Hollywood Strippers - Meilin hired me for Wufei’s bachelor party, which is where I met Quatre. And her. And Wufei. Obviously.”

“Obviously,” he agreed, his voice so empty of emotion it was hard to believe it was  _ his _ voice.

We sat in silence, until I finally worked up the courage to finish pulling off the bandaid.

“I’m also a prostitute.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him turn to stare at me in horror.

“You - you and Wufei -”

“No!” I turned and shook my head. “ _ No _ . It was just - I only stripped, for him. That’s all it was.”

Some of the distress eased from his face, but not all.

“You… never told me,” he stated the obvious. “Were you going to?”

_ That _ question cut me deep, and I took too long trying to come up with a response that he wouldn’t hold against me.

“Right.,” hHe let out a shaky laugh and ran a hand through his bangs. “Well, fuck. Ha. I mean - nevermind. Jesus fucking  _ Christ _ , Trowa!” 

The anger in his voice, the  _ betrayal _ , had me lashing out.

“You never told me, about your -”

“That is  _ not _ the same fucking thing!” Hhe said, his voice savage. He was right to be upset at that tactic. 

He was also  _ right _ . It wasn’t the same thing. He had had a dangerous habit that could have killed him - that  _ did _ kill his brother. This was my job. 

“I don’t  _ do _ that shit anymore! So unless you… gave up sex work in the last few days, then -”

“Give it  _ up _ ? It’s my  _ job _ .”

We stared at each other, both of us angry now, both of us so far from agreement that I knew it was only going to get worse.

Eventually, Duo swallowed and looked away.

“I should go.”

Which meant I should get the hell out of his car.

I did, hesitating to close the door, and I heard him sigh.

“I’ll - I’ll call you or…” he trailed off, and I knew it was because he didn’t want to lie to me.

“Don’t bother,” I bit out, and slammed the car door shut.

He drove off, leaving me standing alone and glaring after him, and I couldn’t decide which of us I was more pissed off at.

 

-o-

 


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: For Crafty Companion, who requested a few text posts using 3x2. I decided to combine all of them into one fic, which you maybe intended anyway? ( (text): me.you.a bottle of vodka. My place. now,(text) pants optional,(text) wanna be my plus one for my ex's wedding? And pretend to be in love with me?).

 

A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to Ro. 

 

A/N 3: I know a few people have been looking forward to more of this, and I really appreciate the encouragement. I also just want to say, reviews mean the world. I cannot emphasize enough how much it literally makes my day to see that someone has reviewed my work. I love writing these two uncommunicative assholes, but hearing YOUR love for them is what motivates me to keep exploring new ways to write them. So, please, if you enjoyed, leave a review. Even just a “thanks” means the world to me.

 

A/N 4: This will probably surprise absolutely no one, but I don’t have much knowledge of the ins and outs of a strip club. I worked for Chippendales in Las Vegas for a while doing wardrobe, but Chippendales is  _ very _ different than an actual strip club so my experiences don’t translate all that well. I’m making a lot of this up and trying to be respectful and vague, but I apologize if anyone takes any offense.

 

A/N 5: Would you believe it, but the song used later in this chapter is the song that inspired me to make Trowa a stripper in the first place - I’ve been desperate to write this scene since I started.

 

Warnings: angst, language, sexy times, mention of drug use (something I SHOULD have included before?????)

Pairings: 3x2/2x3, 1x5, past 2x5

 

_ The First Five Times _

Chapter Six

 

Three weeks.

Before this, the longest time that had passed between me seeing or hearing from Duo had been two days. 

Nine months ago, I hadn’t met him - he didn’t mean anything to me, and there was no hole in my life when I looked at my phone and saw that he hadn’t called, hadn’t texted, hadn’t sent me a message on Grindr suggesting we hook up in some thoroughly inappropriate place.

I was a fucking idiot, for ever thinking that I was just  _ friends _ with him - that this was some kind of casual relationship that I could enjoy and step away from.

Maybe that was all Duo had wanted out of it - maybe that was all Duo had felt - but  _ I _ sure as hell was in love with him.

Even now, even after three weeks of hearing nothing from him. After three weeks of imagining what Duo thought of me, of remembering the look of shock and betrayal on his face when I confessed my job to him.

It hurt, the lack of Duo, and the twisted thoughts of him judging me.

It hurt, and it distracted me.

I locked myself out of my apartment twice, checking my phone when I heard the text chime and hoping it was Duo, and then, disappointed that it wasn’t, I had closed the locked front door behind me before realizing my keys were still on the side table by the door.

I showed up to a gig in the wrong costume - Alex, Trant and I had been hired to do a group event as construction workers, but I showed up in the UPS costume instead after I realized that Duo had borrowed the plaid shirt I usually wore over my tank. We had made it work, but Alex and Trant now had yet another thing to razz me about, and I couldn’t blame them.

Cathy, of course, had commiserated with me about the fight with Duo  _ and _ pointed out that I had been an idiot and was  _ still _ an idiot.

_ Call him _ , she had urged me, exasperated after five late nights of drinking after work.

Call him.

I had tried, seven times now. Had pulled out my phone and looked at the recent calls and hovered my finger over his name before hesitating, before putting my phone down and telling myself that there was no point.

If Duo wanted me, he would call. He hadn’t called - so he didn’t want me. 

Unlike me, Duo didn’t sit around and work through all of the horrible ways a scenario could fail before he committed - Duo just dove in headfirst.

I was confident that  _ he _ hadn’t been sitting around for the last three weeks debating whether or not to call me. He had clearly decided - probably as he drove away from me - that he was done.

_ Move on _ , Cathy urged me after three more nights of drinking.

But, of course, it wasn’t that easy.

Even if I  _ could _ set aside the fact that I thought of Duo ten, fifteen times a day just because I saw or heard something that made me think of him - that made me want to talk to him and get him to laugh - moving on meant meeting someone new.

I  _ met _ people every day - people who paid me to fuck them or strip for them. I didn’t  _ want _ a relationship of any kind with them outside of work.

_ Ask out the bartender - he’s been eyeing you all night _ , Cathy suggested when I pointed out that, outside of hotel rooms, cars, bars and strip clubs, I really didn’t get out that much.

The bartender was good in bed, making needy, whining moans as I fucked him from behind and admired the star tattoo on the small of his back as I watched my cock slide into his welcoming ass. 

After, he insisted on ordering pizza and we sat on his couch, half-naked, eating the pizza and watching Netflix. He wanted to watch  _ Sons of Anarchy _ \- he was in the middle of the third season - but he didn’t get the joke when I asked if it was the episode where Jax tried to get the club out of guns. He just looked at me blankly, one eyebrow raised, and shrugged.

It had been Duo’s joke - pointing out that  _ every _ episode was about Jax trying to get the club out of guns. In fact, I had never even seen the show before Duo insisted I watch it.

I spent the night with the bartender, but in the morning, after we fucked again, I didn’t bother to get his number and he didn’t bother to ask for mine.

I was so conspicuously miserable that even Alex and Trant, after the first two weeks, started to ease up on their routine efforts to embarrass me and stopped giving me shit about anything I did - or failed to do - that amused them.

Even though we all did outside gigs together, on occasion, through Hollywood Strippers, I had first met Alex and Trant at Exiles. They had been working at the club for years, and the night of my audition, they made my life a living hell - catcalling and deriding me all through my routine, and afterwards, when I was hired, Alex had been asked to show me around and had proceeded to try to get me fired for the first two weeks I worked there.

It wasn’t until a month into my employment when they stopped being assholes to me - when another new dancer started working there, and they decided to torture him instead. It was another six months and two new strippers later that they invited me back to their apartment for a beer one night, and while the sex had been interesting and had led to a few nights over the years of threesomes between us, more than that, it had solidified my status as ‘not the enemy’ in their books. We started hanging out after our shifts, they started invited me to group events, and we slowly became friends.

Two years ago, Alex had come up with the oh so clever, oh so  _ ridiculous _ double act that he and I performed every few months at the club, usually after I lost a bet to him or owed him a favor. It wasn’t the worst act in the world - and the patrons at the strip club always enjoyed it enough to tip  _ very _ well - but it made me feel like an idiot, and I hated the song that Alex had chosen to go with it.

It had been almost three months since he had grinned at me and told me to  _ suit up _ . A streak that I had known, eventually, would come to an end.

What I hadn’t anticipated was showing up to work at the club on a Friday night, miserable because it was  _ damn _ good to have the shift back and the money it brought in but unable to ignore the fact that working on a Friday night meant I wasn’t curled up with Duo watching  _ Sons of Anarchy _ , and having Alex standing by my station in the dressing room, arms crossed over his broad chest and grinning like a lunatic.

“No.”

Alex nodded vigorously.

“ _ Yes _ . Oh yes.”

“I’m not doing it.” I wasn’t in the mood - hell, I was  _ never _ in the mood, but I  _ really _ wasn’t in the mood now.

“C’mon, babe, it’ll be  _ fun _ ,” he wheedled.

_ Babe _ . I couldn’t help but think of Duo. 

“Fun for  _ you _ ,” I growled, and Alex chuckled and shrugged, unrepentant.

“Well, yeah. But we’ll both make out like pirates on the tips. C’mon. It’s ten minutes of your life, Tro.”

Alex gave me a look that was supposed to be adorable and pleading. It wasn’t.

Still.

Money was good. 

And hell, I was already miserable. Ten minutes of abject idiocy wasn’t going to make it  _ that _ much worse, was it?

Alex saw the capitulation in my eyes, and he pumped the air with his fist.

“Awesome. I’ll tell Ninja to add our song to the list - you wanna do it during your first or second slot?”

“First,” I sighed. Might as well get it over with. I had three time slots on the stage that night, the first - now to be shared with Alex - in just twenty minutes. The second would be ninety minutes after that, giving me time to relax or troll for patrons who wanted a private show, and the last slot was the big midnight act that featured six of us onstage together. After that, I would likely hang around for another hour or so to give private dances before I called it a night.

Alex grinned again, gave my shoulder a squeeze, and left the dressing room.

I sighed and dropped my backpack onto the floor by my station. Inside were the costumes I had planned to wear for my first two sets that night - the finale costume was stored here, as was the costume for the act I did with Alex. Most strippers kept their costumes at home, because things tended to walk off when left at the club, and because a lot of us preferred to do our own laundry.

I found my costume neatly in the storage cupboards at the back of the room. It smelled fresh, suspiciously fresh, and I rolled my eyes as I realized Alex must have taken it home to wash. He had probably - correctly - anticipated me trying to get out of it by claiming the costume was dirty.

With a grimace, I picked up the ridiculous white and red hat, the sheer white stockings, red thong, red garter belt, white and red briefs and the white and red collar.

It was stupid. So very, very stupid, and I had raised my eyebrows when Alex made me put it on the first time. It wasn’t  _ quite _ drag, but it wasn’t  _ not _ drag either. 

_ Exiles _ was a fairly eclectic club - there were usually one or two strippers who crossdressed for their acts, and the acts themselves ranged from merely smutty to fairly kinky. Even so, it was pretty tame,  _ almost _ vanilla compared to some of the outside gigs I did.

“You make a fucking gorgeous naughty nurse,” Alex and Trant had assured me, Trant nodding enthusiastically while his eyes mentally undressed me out of the meager costume.

I stripped out of my street clothes and grabbed the bottle of coconut oil out of my bag. 

Duo had lifted an eyebrow when he saw a half-empty bottle I had left out in my bathroom one night, and then grinned wickedly and proceeded to give me one hell of a massage. The next time he came over, he dropped off a full bottle of the stuff but didn’t otherwise comment.

I smoothed the oil over my body, making sure to cover as much of my skin as I could, until I looked in the mirror and was satisfied with the way I gleamed in the lights.

I pulled on the red thong next, and was just starting to fasten the stockings to the garter belt when Alex came back into the dressing room.

He had two drinks in hand, one cloudy amber and the other clear. He held both of them up, as though offering me a choice.

I rolled my eyes and grabbed the Sidecar - what I  _ assumed _ was a Sidecar - and drained it in one go. The bartender had  _ not _ held back on the triple-sec, and I coughed a little.

“Cheers,” Alex chuckled.

I glared at him, but went back to getting dressed.

I pulled the garter belt with the attached stockings on - Cathy had taught me that trick.

_ Putting the stockings on first is fucking stupid, and you’ll pull a muscle trying to fasten the garter belt _ .

Alex finished off his own drink and started to strip and oil himself up.

His own costume - a green thong, green scrubs, labcoat and glasses - was the same one he used on outside gigs for any kind of medical sets. He had been hired to strip for a bunch of nurses once, celebrating the retirement of a colleague, and he had come back shell-shocked from the event and refused to say a word about what had happened.

After the garter belt and stockings, I pulled on the white briefs with red trim and a red cross over the crotch. Then the white collar with little red crosses on the lapels, and finally the idiotic hat.

I used gel to scrape my hair back from my face, and had to use bobby pins to secure the white nurse’s cap.

“Looking good, Barton,” Alex assured me with a wink.

I gave him a look.

“When don’t I?”

He chuckled.

“That’s the spirit!” 

We could hear the sound of the audience cheering the finale of the act before ours, and Alex threw an arm around my shoulders.

“Ready to break some hearts?”

A poor choice of words, and Alex realized it as soon as he said it.

“I mean-”

“I’m ready to earn some money,” I sighed. I wasn’t in the mood to hear his clumsy apology.

And, honestly, I needed to stop wallowing.

Of course, I had been telling myself that for the past weeks with very,  _ very _ little success.

Miguel, a petite, wiry stripper who was Alex’s current target for passive-aggressive attacks, came back into the dressing room. He was smiling and sweating from his set.

I nodded to him, and he nodded back at me before his smile dissolved and he glared at Alex.

Alex looked him over, lips curling in faint disgust as his gaze focused on Miguel’s bulging groin, barely covered by a sequined blue thong.

“Don’t tell me you  _ stuff _ that thing?” Alex sneered. 

He moved away from me and reached out as if to give Miguel a squeeze. The shorter man skidded away from him.

“Alex,” I warned him. I’d lived through the hazing myself and survived, but that didn’t mean I liked seeing anyone else suffer.

He rolled his eyes and looked back at me.

“The little shit has to stuff his thong!” He sounded completely delighted by the discovery.

Miguel, on the other hand, had a face so red I wondered if he was going to injure himself.

I sighed.

“He doesn’t  _ have _ to stuff it,” I muttered.

Both men looked at me, Miguel with confusion and Alex with a scowl of irritation for interfering.

“What do you-”

“Trust me, with his dick, he doesn’t need to stuff anything. Well. He doesn’t need to stuff his thong, at least.” I smirked and looked over at Miguel. He was staring at me in shock, but he recovered before Alex looked over at him in disbelief.

“You and the twig over there?” Alex asked in shock.

“It’s not a twig. A branch? No. A trunk. Definitely a trunk.”

Alex looked as if I was trying to convince him the world was flat.

After a moment, he shook his head.

“Tro, my dude, we have got to get you a man - a real man. You keep sleeping with all these…” He made a vague gesture towards Miguel.

I arched an eyebrow at that, wondering just what kind of insult he was implying.

Alex sighed.

“Come on, we gotta get ready.” He snarled at Miguel again as he walked past him and out of the dressing room. “Go sit in the audience and get some pointers on how real men do it.”

I lagged behind, waiting for Alex to leave.

“I… Why did you lie for me?” Miguel asked.

I shrugged. I had exchanged only a handful of words with Miguel - most of them on the first night he started work, when he tried to sit at my station and I told him to move his ass. 

“Alex is a dick,” I said.

Miguel nodded, and then gave me a considering look.

“I… I mean, I’m not that small, you know. And I, uh, I prefer to bottom anyway, so if you-”

I held a hand up to stop him from going any further.

“You’re cute,” I assured him. “But you’re not my type.” I nodded towards his groin. “You really  _ don’t _ need to stuff your thong. But if you do, make it more subtle than that.”

Miguel was still staring at me as I left the dressing room.

 

-o-

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

A/N: For Crafty Companion, who requested a few text posts using 3x2. I decided to combine all of them into one fic, which you maybe intended anyway? ( (text): me.you.a bottle of vodka. My place. now,(text) pants optional,(text) wanna be my plus one for my ex's wedding? And pretend to be in love with me?).

 

A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to Ro. 

 

A/N 3: I know a few people have been looking forward to more of this, and I really appreciate the encouragement. I also just want to say, reviews mean the world. I cannot emphasize enough how much it literally makes my day to see that someone has reviewed my work. I love writing these two uncommunicative assholes, but hearing YOUR love for them is what motivates me to keep exploring new ways to write them. So, please, if you enjoyed, leave a review. Even just a “thanks” means the world to me.

 

A/N 4: This will probably surprise absolutely no one, but I don’t have much knowledge of the ins and outs of a strip club. I worked for Chippendales in Las Vegas for a while doing wardrobe, but Chippendales is  _ very _ different than an actual strip club so my experiences don’t translate all that well. I’m making a lot of this up and trying to be respectful and vague, but I apologize if anyone takes any offense.

 

A/N 5: Would you believe it, but the song used later in this chapter is the song that inspired me to make Trowa a stripper in the first place - I’ve been desperate to write this scene since I started.

  
  
  
  


_ First Five Times _

Chapter Seven

 

I barely made it backstage in time.

The opening chords to  _ our song _ , as Alex called it, had already started to play through the speaker system.

Alex waited until I was in place, waited for me to nod, and then walked out onstage.

He had a clipboard in one hand, and as he strutted down the polished black stage he pretended to write on it.

I drew in a deep breath, shared a grimace with Ninja, the DJ, and waited for my cue.

_ “I know what boys like.” _

As the first words came through the speaker system, there was a roar of approval from the audience. It seemed there were more than a few regulars in the crowd tonight.

_ “I know what guys want.” _

Alex continued walking down the stage, looking up at the catcalls and preening.

“ _ I know what boys like _ .”

It was my cue, and I adjusted my briefs, drew in another deep breath, and stepped out just as the next set of lyrics began.

The shouts and applause of the audience almost drowned out the music.

“ _ I’ve got what boys want.” _

I made my way down the stage, taking my time, my gaze focused on Alex as he turned and pretended to be shocked to see me.

“ _ I know what boys like.” _

He walked towards me, meeting me halfway, and I paused to tug at the stethoscope around his neck, setting it to rights.

“ _ I know what guys want.” _

And then I continued walking past him, towards the stripper pole farthest downstage on the runway style stage.

I reached out one hand and wrapped it around the shaft, running my hand up and down it.

“ _ I see them looking.” _

I thrust my hips forward, rolling along the length of the pole, and there were calls for  _ more _ from the audience.

“ _ I make them want me.” _

I couldn’t see him, but at this point I knew Alex was walking back towards me, staring at my ass as I sensuously moved it in time with the music.

“ _ I like to tease them. _ ”

I crouched down to my knees and rose slowly, spreading my hands along my legs from my ankles to my thighs, and then gripping my groin in one hand and squeezing.

“ _ They want to touch me _ .”

I felt Alex’s hand on my ass, and didn’t even bother to turn or look as I swatted it away.

The crowd laughed and cheered at the same time.

_ “I never let them.” _

I turned around and wagged my finger in Alex’s face.

“ _ I know what boys like _ .”

I walked around him, running my hands over his arms, chest and shoulders as I positioned myself against his back.

“ _ I know what guys want. _ ”

I gave a thrust of my hips and the audience howled.

“ _ I know what boys like.” _

I smoothed my hands down Alex’s shoulders until I could reach into the left breast pocket of the lab coat. I fished out the prop that had been my sole contribution to the creation of this ridiculous act. I had let Alex choreograph everything and had even given into his costume choices, but this I had added just for me. And for the audience, who always appreciated it.

_ “Boys like, boys like me.” _

I pulled my hand out to reveal a bright red lollipop in the shape of a penis.

It wasn’t that big, only about an inch around and maybe three inches long, but it was big enough to read and, as usual, the audience cheered.

I moved away from Alex, pulling off the wrapper and dropping it into the lap of a middle-aged man sitting beside the stage, and ran my tongue up the length of the lollipop. Raspberry. That was new.

“ _ But you, you’re special.” _

I turned back to look at Alex, who was watching me with a dazed expression.

“ _ I might let you.” _

I opened my mouth and pushed the lollipop in far enough to have the audience cheering again.

Alex dropped to his knees.

I walked over to him, slowly, moving the lollipop in and out of my mouth just as slowly.

“ _ You’re so much different _ .”

I tugged him back to his feet and his hands went to my ass, squeezing roughly.

“ _ I might let you _ .”

I turned around, so that my ass was against his groin, and spread my legs wide.

“ _ Mmm, would you like that.” _

I bent at the waist, still sliding the lollipop in and out of my mouth, and Alex held me steady.

I folded myself in half, until I was looking at the audience behind Alex through his legs, and the crowd was cheering.

Until I was looking into the wide-eyed stare of Duo Maxwell.

“ _ I might let you.” _

I was transfixed. I forgot how to breathe, how to  _ move _ , how to  _ think, _ as I stared into his face.

“ _ I know what boys like.” _

He wasn’t in the first row - was, in fact, a few rows back, but I could see him, could make out his features in the blue glow of the club lights, and I-

“ _ I know what guys want. _ ”

Alex pulled me back to my feet, breaking the contact, and I sucked in a breath.

_ Shit _ .

I had missed so many cues.

“ _ I know what boys like _ .”

Alex grabbed my thighs and hauled me upwards, spreading my legs over his and holding me in place.

I forced myself to continue sucking on the lollipop, to put the sight of a flabbergasted Duo Maxwell from my mind and do my  _ job _ .

“ _ I know what’s on their minds.” _

I should have stood up earlier, should have removed Alex’s lab coat and pulled it between my legs while rocking back and forth before tossing it towards backstage.

Instead, the coat was still on, and as a result, most of the audience didn’t see Alex pumping his hips, humping me even while balancing me on his thighs.

“ _ I know what boys like.” _

Alex loosened his hold and allowed me to slide down his thighs until I was kneeling on the stage floor.

He walked around me, ripping off his lab coat and flinging it in the general direction of the back.

I expected to see him fighting back anger or irritation. Instead, he looked genuinely concerned.

“ _ I know what guys want.” _

I held out the lollipop, and he took it from me while I positioned my face in front of his groin, sticking out my tongue, no doubt stained a deep red from the raspberrry sucker, and licked a stripe down the front of his scrubs.

“ _ They talk about me _ .”

Alex spread his hands and gestured to the audience, who helpfully called out suggestions of what he should do to me.

“ _ I got my cat moves _ .”

I slid under Alex’s legs, spreading my own as I did and using his thigh to pull myself up, dragging my groin along the side of his body as I did.

“ _ That so upset them.” _

Alex still had his arms spread wide, and I ran my hands over his torso and down to his waist, slipping my hands under the waistband of his pants.

“ _ Zippers and buttons. _ ”

With a firm yank, I pulled the tear-away scrub bottoms off.

_ “Fun to frustrate them.” _

I did the same to his shirt, holding onto the stethoscope with one hand so it didn’t go flying - the first time we had done this, it had careened off into the audience and hit someone on the head. An hour alone in the Champagne Room with both Alex and I had prevented any lawsuits, and we had been careful ever since.

I sank to my knees again and went back under Alex’s legs, taking my time to stand up and letting him grab my hips again with one hand before pushing him away.

“ _ They get so angry _ .”

I turned and smirked as I plucked the lollipop from his hand.

“ _ Like pouty children _ .”

I stuck out my tongue and ran the sugar-sculpted cock, now little more than a thin red cylinder, over my tongue before easing it down my throat.

“ _ Denied their candy.” _

When I pulled it out, the rest of it was gone, and the audience cheered again.

I handed off the stick to another man in the front row, who held it aloft like some kind of trophy instead of the now useless prop that it really was.

“ _ I laugh right at them.” _

I reached down and pulled off my briefs, revealing the red thong and the garter belt that held up the white stockings.

“ _ I know what boys like. _ ”

I returned to the first stripper pole and took hold of it again, pulling myself up until I was several feet off the ground.

_ “I know what guys want.” _

I gripped it tightly with my thighs and slowly eased my hands away.

“ _ I know what boys like.” _

I bent over backwards, so that only my thighs held me up, and my hands reached for Alex.

“ _ Boys like, boys like me.” _

I thrust my crotch towards the pole, rolling my hips as much as I could without dislodging my grip, and once again the audience roared.

Alex sank to his knees.

“ _ I feel sad now.” _

I reached up to take hold of the pole again, and let myself slowly slide down.

“ _ I will let you.” _

I gave the pole a final hump before turning to Alex.

“ _ Sorry I teased you.” _

I dropped down to all fours and started to crawl towards him.

“ _ I will let you.” _

I stopped in front of him and climbed into his lap.

“ _ This time I mean it.” _

I stood up slowly, my chest, groin and thighs rubbing against his face as I stood.

“ _ I will let you.” _

I ran my hands over my chest, down my defined abs, and cupped the thong covering my cock and balls with both hands.

“ _ Anything you want.” _

Alex ran his hands over my thighs, grabbing my hands and pulling them away from my cock before pulling me back down into his lap. He gave a few exaggerated thrusts of his hips, and I threw my head back in pretend ecstasy.

“ _ You can trust me.” _

I used the move to reach behind myself and put my hands on the floor. I did a backbend, flipping to my feet, carefully negotiating around Alex’s body.

_ “I really want to.” _

I crooked my finger at him, and he rose to his feet and stalked me upstage.

_ “You can trust me.” _

I knelt down in front of him and reached for the waistband of his briefs.

There were few strip clubs in LA that served booze  _ and _ did full-nudity, but  _ Exiles  _ was one of them. Not every act featured full nudity, but  _ this _ one did.

_ “How would you like it.” _

I gave a firm yank, pulling the briefs off and exposing Alex’s half-hard cock to the full view of the audience, leaving it dangling right in front of my eyes.

_ “You can trust me.” _

I opened my mouth and leaned in close, and the audience was silent in expectation.

_ “Sucker.” _

I slid between his legs again, and there was a cry of disappointment from the crowd. I smirked, not even acting at that point.

I walked upstage, taking my time and letting the audience get a good view of my ass and enjoy the sight of Alex as he sank to his knees again.

I paused and turned, put a finger to my lips as though reconsidering.

“ _ Hmmm.” _

And as the last repeat of the chorus kicked in, I finished walking offstage, leaving Alex alone, naked and kneeling in the dark.

“ _ I know what boys like.  _

_ I know what guys want. _

_ I know what boys like. _

_ Boys like, boys like me.” _

My heart was pounding, the adrenaline from the show, the relief that it was  _ over _ , the bass of the music Ninja played between sets, the absolute  _ terror _ at having seen Duo in the audience all combining to make me feel more than a little lightheaded.

By the time Alex made it backstage, after waiting to gather up our tips and tantalize his fans, I was braced over my station in the dressing room and trying to fight off a panic attack.

“Tro?”

I ignored him, even when he came up behind me and put a hand on my back.

“Dude, are you- You are  _ not _ okay.” He moved, his hand leaving my skin, and I shuddered.

I closed my eyes, trying to ignore the sound of his voice. That didn’t help. Instead, it made it much, much easier to visualize Duo’s face again. 

He had looked… amazed and devastated and shocked and… and it was like he was seeing me for the first time. Was realizing who I really was, and he wasn’t able to wrap his head around it  _ at all _ .

“Here. Tro, turn around. Breathe into this.”

I blinked my eyes open and saw that Alex was holding out a paper bag.

I clumsily grabbed it from him and fisted my hand around the neck and drew in a deep breath.

There had been a guy, back when I was still telling my boyfriends what my real job was, who insisted on coming to see me perform, who would pay for a private dance after my sets and then insist on a repeat performance at home. He got off on it, on the idea of fucking a stripper - he hadn’t known I was also a prostitute - and it was clear he was using me to live out some fantasy, some delusion of his own appeal, and I had begun to resent him almost immediately. I had told Cathy about it - had questioned his behavior and my own. 

_ Didn’t I want someone who didn’t mind what I did _ ?

_ There is not minding _ , Cathy had told me,  _ and then there is fetishizing. _

It was painfully clear that Duo was most  _ definitely _ not fetishizing my work. At all.

“Dude, what the fuck happened out there?”

I managed to open my eyes, to see the worry in his eyes and the crease between his brows.

I hadn’t known he cared - not really, not this much.

I let out a breath and eased the paper bag away.

My head was still swimming, my pulse still racing, but I didn’t feel on the verge of blacking out anymore.

“Duo.”

“Duo?”

“He was- he was here. He’s here. Out there.”

Alex’s eyes widened and then narrowed.

“ _ Where? _ ”

His tone and the look of anger on his face had me choking on a laugh.

“Are you going to go defend my  _ honor _ ?” I asked.

“Look, that little shit fucked you up and-”

“He didn’t,” I insisted, finally getting myself under control. Amazing how Alex’s misplaced righteous anger could do that. “I did that all by myself.”

Alex looked ready to argue, but the chime of a text message on my phone stalled him.

I reached into my bag, blindingly fishing for my phone, and pulled it out.

A single text notification stood out in glaring contrast to the dark screen surrounding it.

**Can we talk?**

It was from Duo.

  
  
  


-o-

 

Endnote: This was legitimately the most challenging thing I have ever written. I have no idea if it makes sense, if it’s GOOD even. I felt stupid writing most of it and it is really, really damn hard to write an  _ entire _ strip performance and I just… I do not want to do that again anytime soon and I very sincerely hope you all didn’t find it too cringeworthy. I’m sorry if you did.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	8. Chapter 8

A/N: For Crafty Companion, who requested a few text posts using 3x2. I decided to combine all of them into one fic, which you maybe intended anyway? ( (text): me.you.a bottle of vodka. My place. now,(text) pants optional,(text) wanna be my plus one for my ex's wedding? And pretend to be in love with me?).

 

A/N 2: Thank you, as always, to Ro. 

 

A/N 3: I know a few people have been looking forward to more of this, and I really appreciate the encouragement. I also just want to say, reviews mean the world. I cannot emphasize enough how much it literally makes my day to see that someone has reviewed my work. I love writing these two uncommunicative assholes, but hearing YOUR love for them is what motivates me to keep exploring new ways to write them. So, please, if you enjoyed, leave a review. Even just a “thanks” means the world to me.

 

A/N 4: This will probably surprise absolutely no one, but I don’t have much knowledge of the ins and outs of a strip club. I worked for Chippendales in Las Vegas for a while doing wardrobe, but Chippendales is  _ very _ different than an actual strip club so my experiences don’t translate all that well. I’m making a lot of this up and trying to be respectful and vague, but I apologize if anyone takes any offense.

 

Warnings: angst, language, sexy times, mention of drug use (something I SHOULD have included before?????)

Pairings: 3x2/2x3, 1x5, past 2x5

 

_ The First Five Times _

Chapter Eight

 

I had already cleaned my apartment on Saturday so thoroughly that I found the shirt Trant had loaned me three years ago in the back of my closet and never returned. The tile in the kitchen and bathroom had never actually  _ sparkled _ before. It had helped, all of the furious scrubbing, sweeping and vacuuming. I had been able to put  _ most _ thoughts about Duo out of my head and focus instead on the mechanical actions of the physical labor.

By Sunday afternoon, however, I was once again a mess of nerves.

I had had a client that morning, a guy who commuted to Seattle for work most weeks and liked to see me on Sunday mornings before he flew out, and afterwards I came home and showered. I scrubbed my skin thoroughly, distracted and anxious, and I was a pink, tender mess when I finally stepped out of the shower. 

A shower that I  _ refused _ to let myself scrub down again.

Instead, I dressed in jeans and a faded  _ Star Wars _ :  _ Return of the Jedi _ shirt that I had found at a Goodwill when I was fifteen and had prized ever since. Duo had jokingly tried to steal it once, and while I didn’t mind seeing it on him when he was completely naked otherwise and in my bed, there was no way anyone was going to take it from me.

I made myself eat lunch, leftover pizza from Saturday night that I didn’t bother to heat up, and then sat on the couch and tried to read.

I had taken a literature class that semester,  _ Twentieth Century American Literature _ , and it had been the first time I was able to actually  _ enjoy _ reading. The professor had chosen challenging, engaging books, and when Duo had seen me reading  _ Catch-22 _ for the class he had asked if I had ever read Vonnegut. I had never  _ heard _ of Vonnegut, and the look on my face must have said as much. The next time Duo came over, he gave me a copy of  _ Cat’s Cradle _ .

That had been months ago, and I was currently working my way through  _ Slaughterhouse Five _ .

Or trying to.

I wasn’t having a lot of luck focusing.

On Friday night, after getting Duo’s text asking to talk, I had hesitated, had put off answering him until after I finished my second set, until after I had given two private dances and had another Sidecar.

**When?**

I was terrified he was still out there, in the club. But I had forced myself to stay focused during my second set, had stayed far away from the seating by the stage and gone straight for the regulars who I knew would pay for a dance so I didn’t have to troll the crowd.

I was desperate for him to say  _ now _ .

He didn’t.

**Tomorrow?**

Duo usually worked Saturday nights, taking a shift that most nurses tried to avoid because it was busy, and because they wanted to spend time with their own families.

Feeling petty, my response had been terse.

**I have a gig in the afternoon. Tomorrow night?**

His response had taken nearly an hour.

**Hilde can’t switch shifts with me. What about Sunday?**

Knowing that he had tried to switch shifts, tried to work around  _ me, _ made me feel like a bit of an asshole, but it also gave me a small flare of hope.

**Sunday afternoon?**

**Three?**

**My place.**

As much as I liked spending time at his apartment, I wanted the comfort of my own for this… talk we were about to have. I didn’t want to have to drive across town depressed or enraged afterwards.

I was starting to think it might have been a better idea to have said his place - at least I would have had the drive over to occupy myself.

Instead, I found myself abandoning Vonnegut to check my phone every few minutes.

**2:45**

**2:52**

**2:57**

**2:58**

**3:01**

**3:05**

Duo was never late.

I checked our text history, but he had definitely said three. And today was definitely Sunday. And this was… my apartment.

It was almost three fifteen when I heard a hesitant knock on my door.

I looked through the peephole and there was Duo, clearly anxious, running a hand through his hair and trying to straighten his clothes.

“Trowa?”

He sounded just as nervous as I felt.

I opened the door, and he gave me an apologetic, lopsided grin.

“I’m so sorry. There was this fucking monster traffic jam, and every time I was stopped long enough to text you, I swear to fuck traffic moved again. I’m sorry. I’m really, really sorry.”

He was sincere, and he looked genuinely worried that I would close the door in his face.

“You took the 101 again, didn’t you?”

Duo lifted his shoulders.

“I wasn’t thinking - I forgot you showed me that other way and…” He trailed off, and I realized that, aside from both of us looking like dogs ready to be kicked and neither of us making a move to get undressed, this was exactly the kind of conversation we could have had any day a month ago.

I sighed and stepped to one side so that Duo could come in, and then closed the door behind him.

He toed off his shoes and looked around the apartment.

I wasn’t messy, normally, but this level of cleanliness was something Duo hadn’t seen before.

He slanted a look over at me but wisely didn’t comment.

“Can I get you something to drink?”

Duo bit the corner of his lower lip.

“Sure, uh, whatever you’re having.”

I rolled my eyes at that, but walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge. There was water, orange juice, milk, a few bottles of some shitty organic beer Cathy had foisted off on me, and a bottle of vodka.

I thought back to the night that had started this descent into fuckery - the text from Duo asking me to bring over a bottle of vodka, the text asking me to pretend to be his boyfriend.

I grabbed the bottle and two shot glasses.

It was only three in the afternoon, but I didn’t have anywhere to be until tomorrow night, and Duo usually had Monday mornings off as well.

He arched an eyebrow when he saw my choice, but followed me over to the couch and gingerly sat down on the opposite end from me.

I poured both of us a shot and immediately downed mine.

Amazing what the burn in my throat did to steady my nerves.

“You wanted to talk,” I reminded him.

“Yeah. I…” He picked up his shot glass, but instead of downing it, turned it around in his fingers as though desperate for a distraction. “I should have called, or texted, or something.”

He should have.

“I told you not to,” I reminded the both of us.

Duo nodded, but he offered me one of his crooked little grins.

“Sure, but I’ve never been good at listening to what people tell me to do or not do.”

He finally drank his shot, and then slid the glass across the coffee table to me.

I refilled both and held his out.

He took it, carefully avoiding my fingers.

“I… fuck, Trowa. I don’t even know where to start.”

That was fair, considering that I didn’t know either.

There was a lot to say, and a hell of a lot we  _ should _ have said sooner.

“I’m sorry about the wedding,” I said.

I had felt awful for  _ that _ , a little nugget of guilt wrapped up in everything else. Duo had so desperately wanted to show Heero and Wufei that he was fine, that he had his shit together and he was happy. And I had ruined all of that.

Duo stared at me.

“You- Trowa, there’s nothing for  _ you _ to be sorry about. It was a stupid fucking idea in the first place. You know Mei - Meilan?” 

I nodded. I didn’t think I would be forgetting  _ her _ anytime soon.

“She told me that she was the one who sent the invitation. I was such a fucking idiot, I thought maybe Heero or Wufei… But no. She… she didn’t think I’d want to miss the most important day in their lives.”

Duo laughed bitterly, and tossed back the shot and slid the glass towards me again.

I drank my own, the burn no less for being the second time around.

“I should have known they didn’t give a flying fuck, and I should have known… it was never going to work, Tro. I’m- I’ll always be the fuckup. I never should have asked you to pretend to be my boyfriend. Hell, I never should have waited so long to tell you I’m a fucking addict.”

I hesitated in the middle of pouring another shot and gave him a look.

He flushed.

“I’m still sober. I mean, no drugs,” he amended, after nodding towards the bottle. “Not much of that, either. Not after the first night, anyway. Only so many vodka hangovers I can handle. Especially when you aren’t there to make me an omelet.”

The casual reference had me wondering if I would end up doing the same thing today. Tonight. Tomorrow morning.

I drank my shot, but left his where it was.

He looked from it to me, but didn’t make any move to reach for it.

“It’s not like that for me, Tro,” he sighed, and leaned back against the couch, tucking one foot under his ass and pulling his other leg up to hold his knee against his chest. “I mean, hell, it  _ used _ to be like that. Bad shit would happen, and I’d get high because if I didn’t feel  _ nothing, _ I felt everything, and I couldn’t… I have bad days now, and I have good days. I have days where everything is going so fucking fine - where I’ve saved some kid’s life or been able to release a kid from the cancer ward because she’s gone into remission, and- and days when everything is fucking  _ fine _ and I’ll just… I’ll walk through the six steps it’ll take me to grab fentanyl or hydrocodone, and I just… It doesn’t have to be a bad day for me to want to get high, Tro. Bad shit doesn’t have to happen.”

“But when bad shit does happen?” I asked, remembering the nights he would beg me to make him forget.

He swallowed hard and looked away from me and nodded.

“Yeah. I want to get high when bad shit happens, too,” he admitted in a rough whisper. He gave me a crooked grin. “And two days after the wedding, I went to a meeting for the first time in like… six months. So it was… it was rough.”

I felt a pang of misery. My fault. For lying to him. For the wedding. For-

“No,” he said, surging across the couch to grab my hand, prying the shot glass out of it before I hurt myself. “Tro, that was on  _ me _ . That was my struggle, my fight. That wasn’t- That sure as hell wasn’t your fault, Trowa. Tro, look at me.”

I did, and I could see the pain and the sincerity on his face.

“That was on me,” he repeated, and he waited for me to nod in agreement before releasing a breath.

He slowly eased away, dropping my hand and picking up his shot glass.

After downing it, he set it back on the coffee table and leaned back against the couch, no longer at the opposite end, but now just half a cushion away.

“I should have told you,” I breathed.

“Well, yeah,” he agreed, and I glared at him.

“Pots and kettles, I know,” he held up his hands. “I mean, sort of. I- I should have told you because I trust you and I care about you, and you matter to me. Which is kind of the reason I didn’t tell you.”

I nodded.

“It’s why I didn’t tell you either.”

His lips pressed together in a tight, grim line, and I knew he was carefully considering what to say.

“You know, I went to  _ Exiles  _ once before,” he finally said.

I arched an eyebrow.

“You weren’t there - obviously. I thought I’d surprise you at work. I, uh, I’d never been to a strip club before - I mean, not a gay strip club. I got dragged out to some fucking gentleman’s club or whatever when I was in college but… Anyway, I walked up to the bar and you weren’t there. Which was weird, because you told me you were working that night. Asked the bartender, and he said you weren’t there that night. I figured you had a date or something and didn’t want to tell me.” Duo shrugged.

“I didn’t,” I assured him. I hadn’t dated anyone since meeting him, not even in the months before we started fucking. 

He lifted an eyebrow.

“Were you…?”

“I don’t know what night this was. I was probably stripping for some private party, or I was with a client.”

Duo nodded, and he seemed at a loss for what to say next.

I poured both of us another shot, and then another.

“I tried to picture it - you stripping or… or with a client. I mean, you’re like… You’re a fucking walking wet dream, so that part I get, and you’re pretty limber, and you’re sure as hell enthusiastic about sex but…”

He trailed off, frowning, and I wondered how horribly awkward this conversation was about to get.

“But?”

“Remember your public speaking class? You hated it - said getting up in front of other people made you nauseous.”

I nodded.

“It did. It  _ does _ .”

“So you feel nauseous every time you do that?”

“No. It’s different.”

It was clear he didn’t understand the distinction, and I sighed.

“It’s just an act, on that stage. It’s not-  _ I’m _ not me. Faking it is easy when it doesn’t matter.”

He frowned at that.

“And with clients? Do you… fake it then too?”

“Sometimes. Sometimes it’s a little hard to fake.”

Duo nodded, considering those words.

“With me?”

He looked and sounded terrified of my potential answer, and I stared at him.

“I know I’m not- But if you- If it wasn’t good, you’d say something or- I want it to be good, Tro. I don’t want you to-”

“I never faked it with you,” I assured him.

He still looked uneasy.

“What if- if you weren’t in the mood and I pressured you into-”

“If I wasn’t in the mood, I said something, and you’ve never pressured me into anything I didn’t want to do. Except trying goat cheese.”

He scowled, but didn’t allow me to derail the conversation.

“I don’t want to- I don’t want to be like  _ them _ ,” he finally managed to say.

I frowned.

“What do you mean?”

I had never had this conversation before - the two guys who had dumped me after finding out what I did had gone the ‘you’re a disgusting piece of trash’ route and walked out after threatening to sue me if they developed an STD. The few guys who hadn’t run the other way immediately had been of the ‘less said the better’ variety. 

“I don’t want to force you to- I don’t…” He was struggling to figure out what to say again. “I don’t want to treat you like a  _ whore _ .”

There was something about the way he said it, something about his earnestness, that irked me.

“And how are whores treated?”

He knew that tone, and he knew he had fucked up.

“You think my clients  _ force _ me to have sex with them?”

He looked miserable, sinking back into the cushions and his cheeks turning pink.

“No, I… I don’t know what- Tro, I just-”

“My clients pay for sex, because I’m  _ good _ at sex and because they want  _ good _ sex. Not because they want to  _ force _ me to do something. They aren’t raping me, Duo. Well, there’s the guy who likes to act out his rape fantasies, but considering the cuffs he puts me in are velcro and he begs me to tell him it feels okay, it’s not anything like  _ forcing _ me to do something.”

Duo had gone from flushed to looking a little green.

“My clients pay for sex, and yeah, it’s about  _ their _ pleasure more than mine, but I’m not some Victorian street urchin selling myself to keep from starving.”

Duo had been the one to make me watch  _ Les Miserables _ , the Liam Neeson version that didn’t have horrible singing in it.

He winced and sucked in a breath.

“I- I’m sorry. I don’t know what the fuck I’m talking about, Trowa. I don’t know what the fuck to think or feel and I- I’m sorry. I’m fucking relieved no one is  _ forcing _ you to do things or rape you or- I’m sorry.” He scrubbed at his face. “There was a kid, two years ago. She was  _ twelve _ and-”

I knew where he was going. 

“It’s not always like that,” I told him, all of my irritation leaking away. “It can be, and it’s… ’Awful’ isn’t a good enough word for it.”

Duo shook his head in agreement.

“There’s sex work, and there’s sex trafficking, Duo.”

I watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed a few times before clearing his throat.

He reached for the bottle of vodka but didn’t bother with the shot glass, instead sipping from it before holding it out to me.

“It’s still dangerous,” he pointed out when I took the bottle and put it to my lips. “Still illegal. And if you’re not safe-”

I drank a little more than I should have, but I managed to avoid coughing or choking.

“I’m always safe,” I interrupted him, holding his gaze until he nodded. “And yeah, it’s illegal.”

He stared at me blankly.

“Then why-?”

“Because the money is good, and I’m good at it.”

“But you-”

I set the bottle down on the coffee table. It was alarmingly close to being empty.

“It doesn’t even matter, does it?” I cut in.

“What? Of course it matters. This is your  _ life _ and-”

“I don’t want to be your friend, Duo.” I blurted it out, the words that had been lodged into my throat for months finally escaping.

Duo stared at me with wide eyes.

He blinked slowly, blinked again, and smoothed his hands over his thighs.

“Okay. I, uh… sure. That’s fair. After all the- Yeah. Yeah.” He slowly stood up, eyes dropping to the floor and his shoulders hunching.

It was not the reaction I had been anticipating, and sure as hell not the one I wanted.

“I’m sorry,” he said again, giving me another of those sad, crooked grins.

“You’re  _ sorry _ ?”

“Yeah. I- I thought this whole thing- You agreeing to talk to me and- I thought we were going to work things out and go back to the way it used to be, only, without the lying to each other thing and-”

“I don’t want to go back to that.”

“Yeah, I get it. I heard you. I just- Closure, right? You wanted closure, so you agreed to talk and-”

I realized that Duo thought I was trying to  _ end _ things.

“Duo, how many friends do you have?”

The non-sequitur caught him off-guard.

“Not many. Even fewer now,” he muttered.

I decided to ignore the last part.

“How many of your friends do you fuck on a regular basis?”

He flushed and scratched at the back of his neck.

“Ah… that would be none. Well, there was you. But now… none.”

“I don’t want to be your  _ friend _ , Duo. I want to date you.”

He stared at me, mouth agape, for long enough for me to wonder if I had really said what I  _ thought _ I had just said.

“Duo?”

He shook himself.

“No, sorry. I just- What- Did you just say you wanted to  _ date _ me?”

I glared at him.

“I just- After all this?” he gestured between the two of us, presumably alluding to his drug addiction and my job. 

“Yes, after all this.”

“I-  _ Why _ ?”

“Because I’m tired of being the friend you call when you want to fuck, and I’m tired of hoping you don’t find someone to date, and I-”

“I don’t call you when I want to fuck, Trowa. I- I call you when I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for days and I figure it’s been long enough since the last time we hung out that I won’t come off as pathetic or needy. Do you- do you have any idea how fucked up I got the night I went to the club and thought you were ditching me for a date with someone else? Tro, I- I didn’t think… I’m a fucking mess, Trowa. You  _ know _ that. You knew that before, and you- I mean there’s even  _ more _ of a mess now. You can’t want to-”

“I do,” I assured him.

“You’re sure?” he asked, but there was a warmth in his eyes, a curve to his lips, that made my heart skip a beat.

“I’m sure.”

 

-o-

 

Endnote: I could have dragged this out for easily another 10-20 chapters, and, obviously, there is a lot more to this relationship, to this story, than I wrap up in this final chapter. Still a lot of issues to work through, a lot of things to communicate, and, well, a lot of living to do.

But I like ending it here because we know they are both in this, that there IS a future they want to work towards, and because I like that for them everything isn’t neatly wrapped up.

 

Hopefully you like that too, or at least don’t hate it.

 

I also want to thank everyone who has taken the time to leave a comment.

 

The Gundam Wing fandom is small, and I know this is a problem across fandoms, but fanfiction is not actually easy to write. And it’s extremely difficult sometimes, between real life and fandom things, to find the motivation.

 

There are so many people who take the time to say lovely things about my work, and also to be supportive to me, and I deeply appreciate each and every review or comment or email or note. 

 

As a plea for myself, and for all fanfiction writers: please, please leave comments. If it’s just “thanks” it means a lot. If it’s an overflowing emotional gushing that you fear makes you seem crazy - let me assure you. You are not crazy. And I - nor any writer - thinks you are. Having someone gush about a story that we took hours, days, weeks, or YEARS to write is the best possible response we could ever hope for. Please gush, please don’t be afraid. 

  
  



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